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THE 

HOP PICKERS 

Girl Life in the Sixties 


FLA VIA CAMP'l CANFIELD 

Author of “The Big Tent,” “Tlie Refugee Family,” 
“The Kidnapped Campers” 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

MORGAN DENNIS 



NEW YORK 

HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY 


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COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 
HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC. 


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PRINTED IN THE U. S. 

SEP 13 *22 

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©CI.A683171 

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To My Family 

AND 

Feiends of the Sixties 


















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Home Missionary’s Family . . 3 

II A New Scheme 16 

III The Journey 27 

IV Prime Accommodations .... 37 

V Hop Picking 45 

VI Getting Used to It 53 

VII John is Adopted ... . . . 61 

VIII The Hop Picking Contest . . . 74 

IX A Change for the Better ... 87 

X Who Stole the Dinner? .... 105 

XI The Shindig 118 

XII The Strike 130 

XIII The Rescue 142 

XIV A Rainy Day 160 

XV The Hop Picker’s Song . . . .173 

XVI Planning a ‘^Show” .... 188 

XVII The Johnson “Varieties” ... 196 

XVIII The Day After the Show ... 211 

XIX The Anonymous Letter . . . .219 

XX The Elopement 232 

XXI Breaking Up ...... 246 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


‘‘A month or six weeks at the outside, 
said the agent with his note-book open in his 
hand Frontispiece 

PAGE 

must finish this chapter first, answered 
Flora, with her eyes still fixed on the book . 78 

In the middle of the stage stood a grand figure 
draped in the American fiag .... 208 

She handed the trunk, and then a satchel, to the 
man who was now halfway up the ladder , 234 






THE HOP PICKERS 








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CHAPTER I 


THE HOME MISSIONARY’S FAMILY 

>1' AM A, are we going to have the lamp 
lighted to-night?” asked Flora, 
hope so,” replied Mrs. Morton, looking np 
from her sewing and pressing her hand over her 
aching eyes. ^ ‘ I have some buttonholes to make 
in the baby’s apron, and I need a stronger light 
than candles for that.” 

‘‘You’ll hurt your eyes if you try to sew in 
the dusk any longer,” said the daughter. 
“Why can’t I light the lamp just this once? 
I’ll be very careful.” 

“No,” returned the mother decidedly. “I’m 
afraid to have any one but your father touch it. 
He’ll he back from the post-office before long, 
and I ’ll ask him to light it then. ’ ’ 

Flora said no more and began to pick up a 
number of toys scattered about the floor. 

3 


4 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘That’s right,” said her mother in a tired 
voice. “This room looks worse than usual to- 
day. Your father has been writing all the after- 
noon on his sermon and is so tired he’ll notice 
the disorder more than usual. You’d better 
straighten out the tablecloth and hang up the 
children’s hats. Jessie,” she called to a little 
girl who was reading by a window, “come and 
pick up the spools the baby has been playing 
with and put them in Mother’s basket.” 

“Can’t Hattie help me do it?” asked the 
child, turning down a leaf at the comer to mark 
the place where she left off. 

“Jessie thinks she can’t breathe without her 
twin,” said Flora, laughing. 

“Hattie is setting the table for supper,” re- 
plied her mother. “She didn’t ask to have you 
help her do that.” 

“All right,” returned the little girl in a re- 
signed tone, falling on her knees to pick up the 
spools. “I’d just as soon do it, only Hattie can 
find them better than I can when they roll under 
the lounge and book-case. I don’t see how 


THE HOME MISSIONARY’S FAMILY 5 


Benny manages to scatter them so,” she went 
on in a grumbling tone. 

Babies make a great deal of work, dear,” 
said her mother, as she folded up her sewing. 
‘‘What do you suppose I did when you and 
Hattie were little?” 

The child sat down on the floor with the work- 
basket on her lap and pushed her curly hair 
away from her round dark eyes as she ex- 
claimed: “Oh, two of us at a time must have 
been awful. Mother! I don’t see how you got 
along!” 

“Well, you were so sweet and cunning you 
paid for all the care and work you made, just 
as Benny does,” returned the mother cheerfully, 
as she picked up the fat ten-month-old baby and 
began kissing him. 

By this time the two pairs of young hands 
had made the little living-room look neat and 
orderly. Wraps and books and playthings were 
put into a closet, bits of paper and thread were 
picked up from the worn rag carpet, chairs and 
stools placed where they belonged, and a small 


6 


THE HOP PICKERS 


kerosene lamp containing a brownish yellow oil 
placed on a table with a box of matches by its 
side. 

‘‘Here’s Papa,” said Jessie, as the door 
opened and a middle-aged man with iron gray 
hair came into the room with a quick step. He 
was of medium height, but so slim and straight 
that he looked tall. 

‘ ‘ Why, how dark it is !” he exclaimed. ‘ ‘ Why 
don’t you have a candle?” 

“I’d like to use the lamp a little while this 
evening if you think we can afford it,” said his 
wife. “I have some fine sewing to do, and the 
candle light tries my eyes.” 

“Why, of course we will afford it,” said her 
husband, walking briskly to the table. ‘ ‘ Has the 
lamp been filled and cleaned to-day? ” 

“Yes, it’s all ready for you to light,” re- 
turned his wife. 

Mr. Morton took off the glass chimney and 
turned up the wick. He then applied a lighted 
match to it and put the chimney over the sput- 
tering yellow flame. Hattie had come into the 


THE HOME MISSIONARY’S FAMILY 7 
room now, and the three sisters stood round 
the table to watch with breathless interest this 
wonderful lamp-lighting ceremony. 

“Stand back farther, girls,” cautioned the 
mother. ‘ ‘ It might explode. ’ ’ 

“There’s no danger, Mary, I think, if you 
cleaned it well,” said the father. 

“It’s thoroughly cleaned and trimmed,” said 
Mrs. Morton, “but I can never get over the 
feeling of danger from the stuff — it’s so ter- 
rible inflammable.” 

“It’s not so dangerous as a camphine lamp, 
is it, Mama?” asked Flora. “Ada Fay has one 
of those to go to bed by.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t have one of them in the 
house,” exclaimed her mother, shuddering. “I 
don’t see how the Fays can take such risks.” 

“My! How horrid this lamp smells!” cried 
Hattie, holding her tiny nose between her thumb 
and forefinger. 

“I’d rather have a candle,” remarked Jessie. 
“That’s safe, and it doesn’t smell.” 

“But the lamp gives a much stronger light. 


8 


THE HOP PICKERS 


you know/^ argued Flora. ‘‘This is just the 
same as six candles, isnT it, PapaT’ 

“Yes, iPs six or seven candle power. It’s 
a great invention. You know the oil comes 
right up out of the ground, and there’s a great 
deal of it. It’s cheaper and safer than cam- 
phine, and after a while they will learn how to 
purify it so the smell will not he so disagree- 
able, and it will give a better light. It will be 
cheaper too, so that everybody can afford to use 
it.” 

The little lamp with its feeble light would 
have seemed a poor affair in these days, but 
sixty years ago, in the Middle West, petroleum 
was just coming into use, and in the little Wis- 
consin village of Minnichute, where the Mor- 
tons lived at that time, there were only a few 
families who had courage and money enough to 
burn it. It was considered a luxury as well as 
being a new, untried, dangerous thing and only 
to be used occasionally. 

Mr. Morton was a home missionary, sent by 
an Eastern society to labor in the West. Half 


THE HOME MISSIONARY’S FAMILY 9 
his salary, of four hundred dollars a year, was 
given him by the society, and the rest raised 
by the little struggling church to which he min- 
istered. This sum was usually eked out by 
boxes of clothing from the Eastern society and 
donation parties given by the friendly villagers. 
At the last one, which was supposed to be a 
surprise party, the lamp had been a gift from 
all the parishioners, who had ^‘clubbed to- 
gether.’’ The Mortons would have thought it 
a luxury they could not afford. 

Aifter supper Mrs. Morton put the younger 
children to bed, the twins washed the dishes, 
and Flora, after drawing the curtains to shut 
out the September evening dusk, brought out 
some paper, pens and ink, as she wished to 
write a letter. Her father sank into an old easy 
chair which creaked with his weight and 
wiped his spectacles before beginning to read 
a newspaper which lay folded at his elbow. 
Presently Mrs. Morton came with her fine sew- 
ing to complete the cozy group around the little 
lamp. 


10 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘To whom are you writing, dear?’^ asked 
the mother, glancing at Flora’s flying pen. 

“To Jennie Dill,” replied the young girl, 
looking up. “I promised to write her once a 
week, and IVe neglected her lately.” 

“You must have a good deal to say to each 
other to exchange four long letters a month,” 
remarked her father, smiling. “But I suppose 
bosom friends have many important matters to 
discuss.” 

“Jennie’s a nice girl. Papa,” remarked 
Flora, a little hurt at her father’s tone. 

‘ ‘ She should be if she is a worthy daughter of 
Caleb Dill.” 

“Rhoda is like her father — she is quiet and 
dignified. Jennie is lively and full of fun. I 
like both the girls, but Jennie suits me the 
best,” said Flora judicially. 

“How old did you say those girls are?” asked 
Mrs. Morton, biting off her thread. 

“Rhoda is twenty and Jennie was fifteen last 
month. She’s just six weeks younger than I 
ann” 


THE HOME MISSIONARY’S FAMILY 11 

“Rather young to be teaching school,” re- 
marked Mr. Morton, looking up from his paper. 

“She succeeds splendidly. Papa. You ought 
to see how well she manages those chil- 
dren, and you know there are a rough lot of 
boys in Atwood. I don’t know what the family 
would do without the money she earns. Mr. 
Dill hasn’t been able to do anything for a year, 
and Rhoda’s embroidery and Jennie’s wages 
are all they have to live on.” 

“I’m afraid you were a tax on them during 
your long visit last month,” said the father. 

“Oh, we lived mostly out of what they had 
in the garden, and I helped Rhoda a good 
deal with her embroidery while Jennie was 
away at school, so I guess they didn’t feel it 
very much.” 

“It’s a pity Mr. Dill had to leave the minis- 
try,” remarked Mrs. Morton. “He was doing 
so well, and the girls should have gone on with 
their education.” 

“Jennie means to go to school again some 
time,” said Flora. “She’s very ambitious and 


12 


THE HOP PICKERS 


has any amount of pluck. I wish I could have 
taught this summer,’’ she went on, idly balanc- 
ing her pen holder on her finger. ‘‘I could pass 
an examination for a certificate as well as Jen- 
nie, and I think I need the money as much as she 
does.” 

‘‘You weren’t well enough, dear, after your 
bad throat in the spring,” said her mother. 
“We’ll manage some way to get clothes for you 
so that you can go to school comfortably this 
fall and winter, and next summer when you 
are sixteen you will be better prepared to teach 
and will be quite young enough then. You know 
Nelly is almost seventeen.” 

“Papa, shall we have a box this year?” 
asked Flora. 

“Perhaps,” said her father, going on with 
his reading. 

“If we do have one I hope they will send us 
something besides old silks and satins and worn- 
out slippers.” 

“I shall be thankful for anything in the wear- 
ing line,” said Mrs. Morton. “The twins are 


THE HOME MISSIONARY’S FAMILY la 


growing so fast they have outgrown all their 
clothes. I can make over almost everything 
that comes.” 

^‘I’m tired of made-overs,” said Flora, dip- 
ping her pen in the ink. “I jnst long for a 
chance to earn money to get some brand new 
clothes all my own.” 

She scribbled away at her letter after this for 
a half hour, writing in a rather careless, 
slovenly hand several pages of “sermon paper” 
her father had given her, and then decided to go 
to bed. The twins were there already and sound 
asleep. 

Mr. and Mrs. Morton sat by the lamp a little 
longer for the chat they usually had after the 
house was quiet and the children asleep. 

“Flora is very restless since her visit to the 
Dills,” said Mrs. Morton. “Jennie’s teaching 
has put the notion in her head that she ought to 
earn her living now. She does need a new dress 
and a hat and some shoes. I wish we could af- 
ford them for her.” 

“Oh, she’U have to learn patience,” said the 


14 THE HOP PICKERS 

father. ‘‘She’s only a child yet. I can’t bear 
to have our girls go out into the world so young. 
I wish we could have kept Nelly at home an- 
other year.” 

“So do I,” said the mother with a sigh. 
“But Flora is so pretty and so bright it would 
be hard to keep her back, especially as other 
girls of her age consider themselves young 
ladies.” 

“I wish she had a little more perseverance,” 
said Mr. Morton. “There would be greater 
hope for her future if she had some of Nelly’s 
industry and stick-to-itiveness.” 

“It wouldn’t be fair for one child to have 
all the gifts, would it ? ” asked his wife. ‘ ‘Nelly 
should have something to offset Flora’s beauty 
and talent.” 

“Yes, there’s something in that view of the 
case,” assented Mr. Morton. “They’re both 
good girls and will turn out all right, thanks 
to their mother’s training.” 

Mrs. Morton smiled as she went on with her 
sewing and her husband continued: “I think 
we may be able to get Flora a new dress. 


THE HOME MISSIONARY’S FAMILY 15 
Deacon Jones told me to-day they are talking 
of giving ns a donation this fallJ’ 

‘‘Oh, dear!” sighed his wife, dropping her 
work in her lap. ‘ ‘ I dread it. But I suppose it’s 
the only way of getting your salary paid, and 
we ’ll have to put up with it. I feel very much 
like our naughty Jessie, though, when she calls 
them ‘darnation’ parties.” 

“She’s about right,” said Mr. Morton, laugh- 
ing. “I don’t like to have what I have earned 
brought to me in the form of a gift. But, as 
you say, there seems to be no other way of get- 
ting my salary this year. Every one feels poor, 
and it seems easier to pay in potatoes and calico 
and hams than in money.” 

Mrs. Morton rose and lighted a candle, for 
their nine-o’clock bed time had come. Mr. Mor- 
ton carefully turned down the wick of the lamp 
until the flame went out in a puff, and as they 
went to their room with its clutter of big bed, 
trundle-bed, and cradle, Mrs. Morton remarked, 
“Well, hams and potatoes are very acceptable, 
but I do hope they will give us a little money 
too. We need it so much.” 


CHAPTER n 


A NEW SCHEME 

T he next morning when Flora was dawd- 
ling about the house rather listlessly, she 
heard a knock at the front door. When she 
answered it a plain little man appeared, who 
asked if he could engage any hop pickers 
there. 

‘ ‘ Hop pickers ! ^ ’ echoed Flora. ‘ ‘ I don ’t know 
what you mean, but if you will walk in I will 
ask my mother. I don’t believe we have such a 
machine though.” 

The man laughed as he seated himself in the 
sitting-room where Mrs. Morton was, and ex- 
plained that he was engaging girls to pick hops 
for men who raised them in large quantities for 
the market. The demand for pickers was great, 
as there was an unusually large crop this year, 
and he had been canvassing towns and villages 
16 


A NEW SCHEME 


17 


and even the cities to engage a sufficient number. 

^‘What do they pay!” asked Flora, greatly 
interested. 

‘^Well, pickers get paid according to what 
hops bring in the market. This year they fetch 
a good price, so pickin’ will pay well. A fair 
picker can easily earn two dollars a day besides 
keepin’.” 

“Mama! Mama! Just think of that,” said 
Flora eagerly. “And the work certainly can’t 
be hard. It’s just the thing for me!” 

“Hard! Nothin’ hard about it,” said the 
man. “Most girls call it play.” 

“Where is this hop region!” asked Mrs. Mor- 
ton. 

“It’s up in Sago County, ma’m, about forty 
miles from here in a straight line. The girls 
from these parts will have to take ruther a 
roundabout way to get there. They go on the 
cars to Maddock Junction, then across the coun- 
try in teams.” 

“And are these hop growers nice people!” 

“The folks up there are all well-to-do and re- 


18 THE HOP PICKERS 

spectable. Oh, yes, ma’m, you can be sure 
of that.’^ 

‘^And do they have good food and comfort- 
able beds?’’ 

“Prime, ma’m! Couldn’t get better livin’ 
at first-class hotels. I’m engagin’ hands for 
Dick Johnson’s folks now, and they take pride 
in setting the best table in the country for their 
pickers.” 

“I have heard,” said Mrs. Morton, “that in 
New York a very rough, low class of people are 
employed to pick hops. How is it here?” 

“Well, ma’m, there’s all sorts of people in a 
hop yard. You can pick your own crowd and 
let the rest alone. Besides, look here, I’ve got 
on my list twenty-five of the nicest girls in this 
town ! ’ ’ 

“Oh, read it, please,” said Flora eagerly. 

The agent produced his book, when it was 
found that most of Flora’s acquaintances in the 
village were going, and she exclaimed wonder- 
ingly: “I don’t understand how Ada Fay and 
the Becket girls should be on that list. I 


A NEW SCHEME 19 

thought there was no reason for them to earn 
money. ’ ’ 

The agent shook his head. ‘‘IVe made a had 
bargain there, I reckon,^’ he said. “I have 
orders not to take that kind. But they want to 
go for the sake of the adventure. They teased 
and hung on so I couldn’t get rid of ’em. Mr. 
Fay wants his girl to go on account of her 
health. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes,” said Mrs. Morton, “I have heard that 
picking hops in the open air is very healthful 
and is often recommended to invalids. I ex- 
pect it would be a good thing for you, dear.” 

“Oh, I’m not an invalid now,” said Flora. 
“I would go for the money.” 

‘ ‘ That ’s right. Y ou ’re the kind I want, ’ ’ said 
the agent, approvingly, again opening his book. 
“How many names shall I put down from this 
house?” 

“Four,” said Flora, promptly, looking to her 
mother for approval. 

“I don’t see how I can spare all of you,” said 
Mrs. Morton, a little hurt that Flora had not 


20 


THE HOP PICKERS 


thought of this herself. ‘ ‘ I have been counting 
on you and Nelly to help me with the sew- 
ing. ’’ 

^‘But just think of the money we can earn!’’ 
exclaimed Flora. ‘‘And we can do the sewing 
when we get back. ’ ’ 

“But there are Arthur and Katie to take care 
of, and the baby is so fretful with his teething. 
I don’t see how I can get on alone.” 

“Well, the twins would better not go,” said 
Flora hastily. 

Mrs. Morton looked reproachfully at her 
daughter. The twins had been kept out of 
school to take care of the younger children and 
help their mother so that Flora might go awa37 
for a visit, and if any one needed a holiday they 
did. They were not here to plead for them- 
selves, but Flora knew they would be indignant 
if they were left at home, and Nelly, whose 
heart was set on going away to school in the 
fall, would not be willing to lose the chance to 
earn all the money she could for that purpose. 
The family sewing, always behind, had accumu- 


A NEW SCHEME 


21 


lated to such an extent that there was pressing 
need for more than one industrious needle. 
Flora knew she ought to stay at home to help her 
mother and let the rest go. 

‘‘Well/^ she said, in answer to her mother 
look, ^‘I’ll give it up. I see I ought not to go.” 
But she could not speak cheerfully, for her quick 
fancy had conjured up such gay and jolly times 
with a crowd of fun-loving girls, to say nothing* 
of the chance to earn some money, that she felt 
as though she could not he left out of the ex- 
cursion. But she said no more about herself, 
and began planning for the others, trying hard 
to hide her disappointment. 

Her mother was silent for a moment and then 
said: “After all, dear, I think I could manage 
to let you go, if your father is willing. I can’t 
bear to have you miss it. It would do you so 
much good, and you would have the chance to 
earn some money. You will need every penny 
you can get if you have any new clothes.” 

“But how, mother dear?” said Flora, anx- 
iously. “I really don’t see how you can 


22 


THE HOP PICKERS 


get on alone with the babies. I was selfish 
to think of such a thing. ’ ’ 

managed with you and Nelly when you 
were little, and I guess I can do as much now,” 
answered her mother, looking up and smiling. 
‘‘Besides,” she went on, “you won’t be gone 
so very long, I imagine. ’ ’ 

“A month or six weeks at the outside, 
ma’m,” said the agent, with his note-book open 
in his hand. 

“K that is all, I can easily spare you, dear,” 
said the mother. “And perhaps the wash- 
woman’s little girl will help me occasionally.” 

It ended by the agent taking the four names, 
Mr. Morton gladly giving his consent to have 
so many noisy children out of his hearing for a 
while. The agent then told them how to pre- 
pare for the trip, and was about to go when 
Flora was struck with an idea. “Mama,” she 
said, “wouldn’t it be splendid to have the Dill 
girls go in our company? I don’t supx>ose 
Rhoda could leave home, but I think Jen would. 
Her school closes by that time and she is crazy 


A NEW SCHEME 


23 


to earn money, and mercy knows they need it 
enough. May I write to some friends to go with 
me 1 ^ ’ she asked, turning to the agent. 

‘‘Well, I guess so,’’ said he, looking over his 
note-book. “I haven’t canvassed Atwood yet. 
I allowed to get pickers there for another man, 
but probably it won’t make any odds.” So the 
matter was left until Flora could write to her 
friends to see if they would go. She was to let 
the agent know at once by mail, for the picking 
was to commence in about ten days, and it was 
necessary to make sure of the right number as 
soon as possible. 

The letter was at once sent, with a full and 
glowing account of the enterprise and an urgent 
entreaty that all of the Dill girls would go if 
possible, and that Jennie must not fail them. 
When it was received there was much discus- 
sion as to which of the elder sisters should stay 
at home to keep house for the father and 
brother. But in the midst of it a neighbor, 
good-hearted 'Mrs. Jones came in and said: 
“What’s to bender the hull kit and bilin’ of you 


24s 


THE HOP PICKERS 
from goin’? I’ll take care of things for ye. 
Your pa and Johnny can take their meals to our 
house. Oh, I’ll make ye pay fur it,” she went 
on, as Rhoda opened her mouth to speak. ‘‘I 
shan’t do it fur nothin’. Ye needn’t be alarmed, 
and I think ye might give a poor, old woman a 
chance to make a little money, too.” 

Rhoda smiled. She had had no vacation from 
indoor work and care for a long time. The pros- 
pect of weeks of out-of-door life seemed bliss- 
ful. She could hardly believe it had come to her 
so suddenly and delightfully. 

Jennie and Kitty took the matter less calmly. 
They were wild with excitement and delight, and 
hugged Mrs. Jones until she was out of breath 
and then ran off to bring their father into the 
council. As they expected, after reading 
Flora’s letter, he readily gave his consent to 
all the arrangements, and seemed especially 
pleased that Rhoda was to have a vacation. 

Preparations for the journey were begun at 
once in both villages. According to the agent, 
each ‘‘picker” was limited as to baggage to a 


A NEW SCHEME 25 

small bundle or satchel. No trunks or boxes 
were to be taken. Gloves, large aprons, heavy- 
shoes, and big sunbonnets were necessary, but 
they were not expected to carry any ‘‘good 
clothes,’’ “though we are going to smuggle in a 
little finery in spite of Mr. Agent, for who knows 
what may happen,” wrote Flora, in one of her 
numerous letters of instruction and advice to 
the Dill family. 

A lady living in Minnichute had once picked 
hops in New York, and her experience and coun- 
sel were worth a good deal to the girls in pre- 
paring their outfits. She had an excellent pat- 
tern of gloves, with long gauntlets reaching to 
the elbows. This was circulated among them, 
and each one made a pair for herself of heavy 
bed-ticking. Then large-sleeved aprons and 
“slat” sunbonnets were made, dresses were 
shortened, and thick shoes and wraps provided. 

Nelly Morton closed her country school in 
time to come home and share the exciting prep- 
arations. She was fair and plump like Flora, 
and the sisters were thought to look alike 


26 THE HOP PICKERS 

though their temperaments were different, Nelly 

being quiet and persistent. 

The twins were in a fever to help, but their 
nine-year-old fingers were too bungling to be of 
much service. It was the mother who made 
them all comfortably ready, sewing many nights 
until after midnight, while her four rosy daugh- 
ters slept soundly. 


CHAPTER in 


THE JOURNEY 

T last the eventful day came for them to 



^ start, and twenty-two happy young crea- 
tures collected in the little station to wait for 
the train which was to take them on the first 
stage of their journey. 

Mrs. Morton’s tired eyes and pale cheeks, as 
she lovingly kissed her daughters good-by, 
haunted Flora, and she felt half -inclined, on her 
way to the station, to turn round and give up 
going. But the generous impulse was nipped in 
the bud when Tilly Mickells came bounding up 
to her, swinging her sunbonnet by the string, 
and shouting: ‘^How are you, hop picker?” A 
foretaste of the coming fun was in the air, and 
in an instant the twinges of conscience were 
forgotten, and Flora plunged into the spirit of 
the adventure. The girls thought it would be 


27 


28 


THE HOP PICKERS 


great fun’^ to wear their uniform of sunbon- 
net, apron, and striped gloves, on the journey, 
so the passengers stared as they trooped into 
the cars, their smiling faces hidden under their 
deep sunhonnets, and they might have been 
taken for some fantastic sisterhood but for their 
giggling and chattering. 

When they arrived at Maddock Junction they 
found Mr. Johnson himself waiting for them. 
He was a quiet, bashful man, and looked as 
though he wanted to run when the girls flocked 
around him and deafened him with their ques- 
tions. But he finally marshalled them into line, 
and they marched to a hotel close by where a 
bountiful dinner was ready for them, and where 
they were to stay till the Western train came 
which was to bring the Dill girls. 

The dinner was not fairly over before they 
heard the roar of the incoming train, and soon 
the Dill girls, together with many other hop 
pickers of every age and condition crowded out 
of the cars and fiUed the station with commo- 
tion. Half a dozen ‘‘hop growers’’ were there 



“A month or six weeks at the outside, ma’m/’ said the 
agent with his note-book open in his hand. 


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THE JOURNEY 


29 


to receive the companies that had been engaged 
for them, and there was an immediate flocking 
around the wagons which stood in a row waiting 
to carry the newcomers away. 

The Dill girls struggled out of the crowd, 
looking anxiously around in every direction for 
Flora Morton, who was also on the lookout for 
them. 

‘‘Here, Jennie!’’ she shrieked, catching sight 
at last of the square shoulders of her friend, and 
immediately a green and a blue sunbonnet were 
diving into each other in a frantic manner, and 
the two girls were laughing, hugging, and talk- 
ing all in one breath. 

But there was no time to lose. There were 
twenty-five miles yet to travel, and some of the 
way was rough. Mr. Johnson ran round franti- 
cally among his girls, and if they had been an 
unruly flock of sheep they could not have caused 
him more trouble. But at last they were all 
seated in the big wagons, as tightly squeezed to- 
gether as sardines in a box. The bundles and 
satchels were packed under the seats, the 


30 


THE HOP PICKERS 


drivers cracked their whips, and away they 
rolled out of the little village and on to the 
broad, green prairie. Other wagons started 
at the same time, and there was much racing 
and screaming and shouting as one team would 
pass another. 

suppose those people are some of the 
rough ones that Mama is so. afraid of,’^ said 
Nelly Morton, as a wagon-load of fantastic crea- 
tures whirled past them, shouting and waving 
many-colored sunbonnets. Mr. Johnson slack- 
ened his pace ‘‘to let them crazy critters go by” 
and his two wagons were soon left behind and 
jogging comfortably along, much to the relief 
of the timid ones who did not relish the racing. 

The older girls had taken their seats in the first 
wagon, which was driven by Mr. Johnson, while 
the Morton twins and Kitty Dill, who were imme- 
diately on most atfectionate terms, were stowed 
together with the rest of the Minnichute ‘ ‘ small 
fry” in the other one, which was driven by a 
“hiredman,” as bashful and silent as his master. 

As soon as the confusion of starting was over. 


THE JOURNEY 31 

Flora introduced her Atwood friends to the 
Minnichnte girls, whose manners were so 
friendly and cordial that they felt at home at 
once, although it was some time before names 
and faces were thoroughly learned. As they 
sat on the long, omnibus-like seats in two rows 
facing each other. Flora began with the first 
one. May Becket, a fair and delicate blonde. 
Next to her was Tilly Mickells, whose little pug 
nose, lively black eyes and freckled face were 
in striking contrast to the regular features and 
fair skin of her next neighbor, Lizzie Becket, 
who was always blushing and smiling. She was 
May’s sister, and they had lived in Minnichute 
six months. Their father was a physician who 
had left his home in a large Massachusetts town 
to begin a new life and regain his health in 
Minnichute, which was a bustling little village 
on the edge of a breezy prairie. 

Ada Fay sat beside Lizzie Becket. She was 
pretty except for a settled frown and a discon- 
tented expression on her fair face. She had an 
abundance of reddish-brown hair, a tall figure 


32 THE HOP PICKERS 

and white hands. Her father was the leading 
merchant of Minnichute. She was an only child, 
and was generally spoken of as too much petted 
and spoiled. Her neighbor was Ann Mather, 
a stolid girl of plain features and matter-of- 
fact ideas, who could never understand or ap- 
prove of jokes. Nina Taylor sat next to her, 
‘‘a cunning little thing,’’ her friends always 
said. She had lovely blue eyes and good fea- 
tures, but the beauty of her round face was 
sadly marred by the marks of smallpox. She 
had her arm around her bosom friend, Minnie 
Waters, who was called a beauty, and she had 
a sort of china-doll prettiness, with delicate fea- 
tures, pink and white skin, and silky and abun- 
dant flaxen hair. But she was a silly little thing, 
and nobody expected sensible behavior from her. 
The others in the wagon were Nora, Fanny, 
and Myra Jennings, two sisters and a cousin, 
freckle-faced, lively and good-natured, who 
talked and laughed incessantly without much 
minding whether they were heard or not. 

The weather was lovely, the air warm but not 


THE JOURNEY 


33 


sultry, and the sun shining through a slight 
haze. The broad prairie lay stretched out be- 
fore them, rich and level, in the beautiful Wis- 
consin valley through which they were going. 
Any one would have enjoyed that ride, and a 
party of young girls without a care and just 
starting on an adventure were, of course, in the 
highest spirits. They sang songs till they were 
hoarse, they joked with each other, letting poor, 
meek Mr. Johnson alone after trying in vain 
to include him in the conversation, and they 
exhausted all their adjectives in praise of the 
country through which they were passing. Late 
in the afternoon they crossed the Wisconsin 
River on an open bridge where the girls had a 
wide view of the broad and beautiful stream, 
curling swiftly round its tree-covered islands 
and showing glimpses here and there of fickle, 
shifting sandbars. After this came rough or 
sandy roads where the horses crept slowly 
along, and often long hills had to be climbed, 
where the girls were asked to walk part of the 


way. 


34 


THE HOP PICKERS 


And now the gay spirits began to droop, and 
over the long stretches of sand, tired heads 
rested on neighboring shoulders and all the 
songs died out. ^‘How much farther do we 
have to go, Mr. Johnson?’’ was the question 
the poor man had to answer every five min- 
utes. 

‘‘We’re just about half way now,” he said 
at dusk. “Reckon we’ll get there about nine 
0 ’clock. ’ ’ 

“Wonder if we’ll have any supper before 
then, ’ ’ said J ennie, in a whisper to her neighbor. 

“Hope so,” said Tilly Mickells in a tone in- 
tended for Mr. Johnson to hear. “I’m as hun- 
gry as a bear ! ’ ’ 

But darkness came on and found them plod- 
ding wearily along. The country had become 
rough and wild. Their road led them through 
dark woods for many a mile, when the nervous 
ones shivered and screamed, and all of them 
felt rather sober when they heard unusual 
sounds. In one of these dark passages Minnie 
Waters, declaring that she was going to faint. 


THE JOURNEY 


35 


fell out of the wagon, the girls not being warned 
in time to catch her as she leaned suddenly back, 
and there was great confusion and scrambling 
as both teams stopped. 

‘‘Oh, Minnie, darling, are you killed U’ 
screamed Nina Taylor, while all the little Minni- 
chute girls in the other wagon began to cry. But 
Rhoda Dill soon restored order by picking up 
the cause of all the disturbance who was crying 
heartily from the pain of a bumped head. 

“Why didnT some of you catch meV’ she 
said angrily between her sobs. “I didn’t sup- 
pose you would let me fall out that way. It 
might have killed me.” 

The girls saw by this that the faint had been 
planned for a sensation and burst into a hearty 
laugh, which made poor Minnie cry louder than 
ever. Rhoda cuddled and soothed her, and pres- 
ently silence fell again over the weary party. 

Some of the little girls were asleep and some 
crying under their sunbonnets from hunger and 
weariness when at last, about ten o’clock, they 
halted before a brown frame house and Mr. 


36 THE HOP PICKERS 

Johnson broke the stillness by saying cheer- 
fully : ‘ ‘ Well, here we be ! ’ ^ 

They were all stiff and lame when they 
climbed out of their seats, and a forlorn pro- 
cession walked up the neat path to a side door, 
each girl carrying her bundle. The house looked 
large and comfortable. The agent had prom- 
ised that accommodations should be prime,” 
and visions of little bedrooms with neat beds 
and carpets and mirrors, with plenty of water 
and clean towels, and near at hand, a large din- 
ing room with a good supper spread in it, passed 
through the minds of some of the girls who had 
been to boarding-school. 


CHAPTEE IV 


PRIME ACCOMMODATIONS 
r the door they were met by Mrs. John- 



ir\. son, who in appearance and manners was 
the opposite of her hulking, bashful husband. 
She was short, straight and trim, though her 
figure was far from thin. Her face and head 
were square and broad which, with her shoul- 
ders of unusual breadth, gave her the appear- 
ance of strength and solidity. A keen pair of 
frosty blue eyes looked at the tired girls who 
silently trooped past her and were directed 
through an open door which led them to their 
rooms. The little woman did not speak a word 
of welcome, and eyed the lagging steps and 
drooping figures with apparently little favor. 

^‘Two rooms for twenty-two to sleep in,’^ said 
Nelly Morton. ‘‘I wonder if that^s what they 
call good accommodations.’’ 


37 


38 


THE HOP PICKERS 


The two rooms were entirely barren of furni- 
ture with the exception of a broken-backed chair 
which held a solitary candle, burning dimly and 
casting a feeble light over the rows of straw 
beds on the floor, crowded so close together as 
to leave no space except a narrow path in the 
middle of the room. 

A bed in any form was welcome to the tired 
young travelers, and they were soon stretched 
at full length upon them, while the older ones 
aired their indignation. 

say it^s indecent to ask girls to sleep in 
a room with no curtains at the windows,’’ said 
Flora. 

We’ll have to pin up our shawls,” said Jen- 
nie, suiting the action to the word and stabbing 
pins through her old, faded plaid into the win- 
dow casing. 

‘^The beds are clean, and that’s a comfort,” 
said May Becket, dropping on to one and ex- 
amining the coarse sheets. 

‘‘But they are so hard,” whined Ada Fay. 
“And I never slept on the floor in my life.” 


PRIME ACCOMMODATIONS 


39 


Just imagine you are a soldier,’’ said Jen- 
nie. ‘‘A good many of them would be glad of 
clean, straw beds on a dry floor. Think on your 
‘marcies,’ girls.” 

‘‘Well, the soldiers had at least something to 
eat. They aren ’t starved as we are, ’ ’ said Kitty 
Dill, dolefully. 

“That vinegar-pot of a woman treated us 
like cattle,” said one of the girlsT 

“Oh, dear,” moaned another, “I wish I 
hadn’t come!” 

“I hope they wiU at least furnish us soap and 
towels,” said Rhoda, who now spoke for the 
first time. “We can go to the pump to wash, 
at any rate.” 

“I don’t believe she wiU allow even that,” 
remarked Ada Fay, crossly. “She wouldn’t 
let her pigs and sheep go there, and she doesn’t 
consider us any better than so many animals.” 

“Well, she feeds her animals, at any rate, 
so I presume she will open the door and throw in 
some com before long. Here pig! pig! pig!'' 
said Jennie in a guttural voice, imitat- 


40 


THE HOP PICKERS 
ing a fanner’s call to his swine at meal time. 

The girls all laughed, hut Minnie Waters 
said: ‘‘I don’t believe we are going to have 
anything to eat. I don’t smell anything cooking, 
and the house is as still as the grave. Oh, dear ! 
I shall die! I know I shall,” and the babyish 
creature turned her face to the wall and sobbed 
aloud, while several of the girls settled into for- 
lorn attitudes and looked for pocket-handker- 
chiefs. 

‘‘Nonsense, girls!” said Jennie. “You have 
no pluck! Let’s not whine, whatever we do. 
Who’s going to die from going without one 
supper? Let’s go to bed and forget all about it. 
It will soon be breakfast time and, of course, 
she won’t starve us, for then we can’t pick her 
hops.” 

There seemed no other way to do, so the 
soiled and weary creatures were preparing for 
their rude beds when the door was opened by 
the little woman without the ceremony of knock- 
ing. She called out the single word, ‘ ‘ Supper ! ’ ’ 
and then walked off. 


PRIME ACCOMMODATIONS 


41 


“Where’s her cornr’ said one of the girls, 
struggling into her clothes. 

“I suppose we must find it,” said Jennie, tak- 
ing the lead. 

They passed through a little sitting room, 
dimly lighted by a single kerosene lamp placed 
on a stand near a window, and Jennie opened 
a door, expecting to pass into a dining room. 
But, instead, a blank wall of darkness met her 
as she stepped out onto a little porch. 

“Come on, girls!” she called, joyfully. “I 
smell coffee ! Follow your noses, or rather, fol- 
low mine. ’ ’ 

“We’d have to go to heaven then, wouldn’t 
we, Jen?” said her sister Kitty. 

Jennie laughed. “Well, if my poor, turn-up 
nose doesn’t deceive me, it will take you to a 
heavenly blessing in the form of a good sup- 
per,” she said, as she hurried along. 

The girls huddled on their clothes and rushed 
after their leader, who stepped across a clean, 
grassy yard a short distance from the house 
toward a long, rough shanty where she rightly 


42 


THE HOP PICKERS 


guessed supper was to be found. Rhoda looked 
round for the pump, which she soon spied near 
the porch, and by it a rude bench on which she 
found half a dozen tin wash bowls while three 
or four large, crash towels hung on rollers 
against the side of the house. The girls, taking 
for granted these were intended for their use, 
were soon enjoying the luxury of soap and 
water, and quite refreshed, they entered the 
shanty where a great surprise met them. 

They had expected the supper to correspond 
to the other accommodations, but here, in a 
long, narrow room, was stretched a table, 
brightly lighted with half a dozen lamps, cov- 
ered with the whitest of table-cloths, and loaded 
with rich and appetizing food. There were plat- 
ters heaped with cold chicken and turkey, smok- 
ing dishes of mealy potatoes near them, while 
biscuits, pies, cakes, cheese and preserves, with 
golden lumps of butter, and plates of pickles, 
filled up every inch of space beside the plates. 

Mrs. Johnson came through a door at one end 
of the dining room, and after directing them to 


PRIME ACCOMMODATIONS 43 
their places at the long table and telling them to 
help themselves, left the room with a qnick step. 
The girls needed no second invitation and were 
soon eating, with a keen relish, the delicious 
supper. 

‘^It seems like a chapter out of the ‘Arabian 
Nights,^ ’’ said Flora. “There we were in that 
miserable room with one tallow candle, just 
ready to die from hunger, when, ‘Open sesame !’, 
and here we are in this bright light and eating 
this splendid supper.^’ 

“Mrs. Vinegar-Pot is a fairy queen, isn’t 
she f ’ ’ said Kitty Dill. 

“And here comes the princess!” whispered 
Jennie. 

All eyes were turned toward a beautiful wo- 
man who came into the room with a large tray 
containing cups of the fragrant cotfee which 
Jennie’s nose had discovered. The woman’s 
dress was a new pink calico, of a pale tint which 
set off an exquisite pink-and-white complexion. 
Her features were perfectly regular, her eyes 
large and black, her shining hair also black. 




THE HOP PICKERS 


coiled low on her lovely head, and her large, 
plump figure was straight and graceful. 

The girls immediately felt the mysterious 
influence of beauty, and stared at her in a man- 
ner not at all polite as she passed the coffee to 
them with an absent and indifferent air, as 
though she was thinking of something else, and 
then walked out of the room with a stately tread. 

The girls looked at each other in amazement ! 

‘^Who can she be?’’ said Tilly Mickells. 

‘ ‘ I never saw such a beautiful creature in my 
life !” exclaimed Nina Taylor. 

‘‘She certainly can’t belong here!” said Min- 
nie Waters. 

‘ ‘ She looks like a ‘ tragedy queen, ’ ’ ’ said May 
Becket, who had been to the theater in the city. 

“Let’s give her Jennie’s name and call her 
the Princess,” said Flora. 

The girls all agreed to this, and soon after 
left the table. But they were very tired and 
soon forgot the “lovely unknown” in a sound 
sleep, too much needed to be disturbed by their 
hard beds and barren surroundings. 


CHAPTER V 


HOP PICKING 



IHEY were wakened before light the next 


^ morning by the sharp voice of Mrs. John- 
son, who put a lighted candle on the chair and 
called : ‘ ‘ Come, girls, get up I Breakfast in ten 
minutes.’’ 

‘‘The idea of making us get up in the night,” 
said the thin voice of Ada Fay, as she pushed 
back her long, red locks. “Wonder if she ex- 
pects us to pick her old hops by candle light!” 

“Perhaps so,” said Jennie, who was hurrying 
on her clothes. “I shan’t be surprised at any- 
thing in this queer place. I have an idea we 
shall have to scramble if we get any breakfast.” 

The girls yawned and left their beds slowly. 
“Dear me! How lame I am!” said Minnie 
Waters. 

‘ ‘ So am I , ” echoed half a dozen voices. 


45 


46 


THE HOP PICKERS 


“Where are my shoes!’’ was a general cry. 

“Oh, dear! Isn’t this dreadful! I’m sick of 
it already,” moaned Ada Fay. 

“Hark! What’s that noise?” called some 
one. 

“Another mystery, I suppose,” said Flora. 

They all listened to the muffled sound of many 
trampling feet which seemed to he over their 
heads, and soon they heard a steady patter on 
the stairs. 

Flora peeped out of the door as the footsteps 
continued through the sitting room. “A bare- 
footed band of ragamuffins, as near as I can 
make out,” she said. 

“And if we don’t hurry they will eat up all 
the breakfast,” called Jennie, rushing out with 
her comb and brush in her hand. 

Half a dozen girls were ready with her, and 
after washing vigorously at the pump, the cold 
morning air bringing the blood to their cheeks, 
and hastily brushing their hair, they were ready 
and passed to their places in the dining room. 

The table was brightly lighted and loaded 


HOP PICKING 4?7 

with food. At the end nearest the door a crowd 
of semi-savages of both sexes and all ages, was 
eating with the utmost speed. They were 
through and gone long before the straggling 
Minnichute party finally collected, the soiled 
plates of the greedy eaters disappearing rapidly 
by the deft hands of the Princess. 

The tardy girls found cups of cold cotfee 
standing by their plates, while the steak and 
ham, potatoes and griddle cakes were in the 
same condition. 

Their discontented remarks reached the Prin- 
cess, who was standing at the other end of the 
table. The girls had not yet heard her speak, 
and turned curiously at her first words. They 
expected, of course, that she would have a voice 
to match her face and figure, but to their aston- 
ishment, she called out in a hard, harsh voice ; 
“Folks that lie in bed mustn’t expect nothin’ 
in this house. Mighty lucky that you get any 
breakfast. Mrs. Johnson don’t feed lazy 
bones.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, dear ! ’ ’ said Flora, in a whisper. “I’m 


48 THE HOP PICKERS 

sorry she spoke. It^s just as though a rose 

had a horrid scent instead of a sweet one.’’ 

‘^Nothing ever turns out as you expect it’s 
going to,” said Jessie Morton, soberly. 

By this time the gray light of morning had 
appeared and the lamps were put out, leaving 
the girls to finish their meal in the dusk, while 
the Princess stood impatiently by to collect the 
soiled dishes. ‘^Come, girls, hurry up!” she 
said at last. ^ ‘ I can ’t wait all day. ’ ’ 

‘‘I wonder what next!” said Jennie, as they 
all rose and went out to the porch. 

‘^Who would have thought such a beautiful 
creature would have such a vixenish temper!” 
said May Becket. 

‘^What shall we do now?” some one asked. 

‘ ‘ I don ’t see a soul to ask, ’ ’ said Flora. ‘ ^ And 
I’d as soon think of putting my head in a lion’s 
mouth as to go near Vinegar-Pot.” 

‘‘You go and ask her, Jen!” said several 
voices. 

“Well, I’m not afraid. Who’ll go with me? 
She won’t kill us if we ask her a civil question.” 


HOP PICKING 


49 


Tilly Mickells volunteered, and the two girls 
passed through the dining room and boldly 
opened the kitchen door. 

‘ ‘ Mrs. J ohnson, will you please tell us where 
to goV^ inquired Jennie, politely. 

‘‘Go to the hop yard, of course, and donT open 
this kitchen door again. I donT allow pickers 
here,^’ said the angry little woman, slamming 
the door in their faces. 

Very much crestfallen they went back to their 
companions. “WeVe got to explore again, 
girls, ’ ’ said Jennie. “It seems to he the fashion 
to find out things for yourself on this planta- 
tion.’’ 

So they went to their rooms, put on sunhon- 
nets, overshoes, and gloves, with shawls and 
waterproofs, as the morning was chilly, and 
then started off, with Jennie at their head, to 
make new discoveries. A fog hid the view, hut 
the sound of voices directed them a few yards 
from the house, and soon they came near enough 
to see tall hop poles covered with fragrant vines, 
and as they came nearer they found groups of 


50 


THE HOP PICKERS 


girls whom they recognized as the ragamuffins 
of the breakfast table. These were standing by 
rough, pine boxes divided by partitions into 
four compartments or bins, one of which was 
assigned to each girl, and into which they were 
throwing the plump, pale-green hops, which 
they pulled from sprays torn from the vine still 
clinging to its pole. The pole leaned conveni- 
ently near, one end resting on a sort of ridge 
pole which ran across the tops of the boxes and 
a few feet above them. 

‘‘Can you tell us if there are any boxes for 
usT’ asked Jennie of one of these girls. 

“No, I don’t know nothin’ about it,” she an- 
swered, looking at the newcomer with disfavor. 

“There’s the boss! Ye kin ask him,” said 
another girl, with a good-natured face. 

Just then a burly man with a red face and 
wearing a blue flannel shirt came up and Jennie, 
putting her question to him, was directed to an- 
other part of the yard where some empty boxes 
were standing. After writing their names in a 
little book which he took from a pocket in his 


HOP PICKING 


51 


shirt he was going away when Jennie called to 
him impatiently, ''Please tell ns how we are to 
get these poles np to our boxes. I’m sure we 
can never cut them down and drag them to us.” 

The boss looked at her with surprise and con- 
tempt. "Hain’t you never picked hops!” he 
exclaimed scornfully. • 

"No, never,” answered Jennie, smiling. 
"We’re all 'greenhorns.’ ” 

The boss looked at the party for a moment 
and then shrugged his shoulders, merely re- 
marking : " Yell ' hops ’ and the pole pullers will 
bring ’em to you. Here you, John and Simmons 
and Perry, tend these six boxes,” he called to 
some rough, rowdyish-looking men who were 
standing round a box talking and laughing with 
the four girls there. 

The men left the girls reluctantly, as they 
came lounging forward, pulling large knives 
from their pockets with which they cut the juicy 
stems of the vines near the ground and then 
pulled the tall poles by main strength. These 
were deeply sunk in the ground, and it seemed 


52 


THE HOP PICKERS 


like pulling up trees by the roots, as the brawny, 
young giants tugged and dragged, all the while 
pouring out a steady stream of profanity as 
naturally as a schoolboy whistles. 

Rhoda covered her ears with her hands, and 
all the girls looked sober and disgusted as they 
stood watching the operation. After a while the 
poles yielded with loud cracks, the boxes were 
supplied, each with two poles, and at last the 
wonderful operation of hop picking actually be- 
gan. 


CHAPTER VI 


GETTING USED TO IT 

T he girls gathered round the six ‘‘stands” 
and began to laugh and sing over the 
pretty work. The sun looked out from the white 
fog presently and lighted up a picturesque 
scene. The tall poles were completely hidden 
by the heavy vines, whose dark green leaves 
were sparkling with dew, and beautifully con- 
trasted with the bunches of delicately green 
hops which they partially hid. 

The poles were fast coming down, leaving 
little cleared spaces round the boxes which stood 
several yards apart. The groups of pickers 
round them, dressed in many colors and partly 
hidden by the branching vines, added to the 
picturesqueness, and made the yard seen from a 
little distance a charming picture. 

“Oh, isn't this lovely!” chorused the girls. 

63 


54 ? 


THE HOP PICKERS 


Perfectly splendid!” cried Jennie. “How 
delicious these hops smell, and picking them is 
just fun. Our trials are all over and victory is 
won! There, I didnT mean to make a 
rhyme. ’ ’ 

“I think they have just commenced,” said 
Ada Fay. “I^m sure I can never fill this great 
box with these little things, and standing up is 
so tiresome.” 

“Hitch up on the edge of the box and rest,” 
said Jennie, suiting the action to the word. 
Frequent rests were needed by all the girls as 
they were not used to standing. They were a 
good deal discouraged in the first hours of the 
new work. 

“I donT see how that other set manages to 
keep at it so steadily,” remarked Nelly Morton. 
“IVe been watching them all morning and they 
don’t stop a moment. Used to it, I suppose.” 

“Yes, that’s it,” said Rhoda, cheerfully, “and 
we shall soon be used to it, when it won’t be so 
hard.” 

Near the close of the forenoon Jennie ran 


GETTING USED TO IT 


55 


over to a neighboring stand where Kitty Dill, 
the twins, and a fourth companion were sta- 
tioned. ^^How do you like it, little sisters U’ 
said she, briskly. 

‘^Oh, it^s nice, but it makes my back ache,^’ 
answered Kitty. 

‘^I’m as hungry as I can be,’’ said one of 
the twins, pushing back her sunbonnet and 
showing a red face, for the day had grown 
warm. 

“But we’ve been having a good time. Kitty 
has been telling us fairy stories,” said Jessie 
Morton. 

“How much money will we make, Jen, do you 
suppose?” said Kitty, pulling off a long spray, 
picking the hops from it one by one, and throw- 
ing them deliberately into the box. 

“Not much, at that rate. Why, look here, 
chicks ! This is the way to do. Pick a handful 
at a time. You can leave three in a bunch and 
get on ever so much faster. Your boxes aren’t 
half full yet and we’ve got ours all ready to 
empty, or rather, all but Ada Fay. There 


56 THE HOP PICKERS 

comes the box-tender with the sacks, ^ ’ said she, 

flying off to her place. 

The box-tender, whom the boss called John, 
emptied the boxes of Flora, Jennie, Tilly Mick- 
ells, and Ada Fay. Each girl in turn held the 
sack open while the man fllled it with great arm- 
fuls of the hops, which he deftly lifted from the 
box with much deep breathing. 

‘^Hain’t very smart hands, be yeT’ he re- 
marked, good-naturedly, freeing his mouth from 
tobacco juice as he spoke. 

‘‘What do you call being smart?’’ asked Jen- 
nie. 

“Well, the best pickers fill their four boxes 
regular, and most of ’em allow to pick three 
sure. ’ ’ 

“Dear me! One box a day is more than I 
can fill, ’ ’ said Ada Fay, leaning idly against her 
half -filled box. 

“Green hand at it, I reckon,” he said, look- 
ing at her carelessly. 

Ada’s sharp chin went up scornfully as she 
turned her head away without replying. 


GETTING USED TO IT 57 

‘‘Yes, we are green,’’ said Jennie, laughing. 
“Bnt we shan’t always he so. I don’t propose 
to be beaten by anybody in this yard ! So here 
goes!” And the hops flew into the box from 
her nimble fingers with a soft thud. 

“You’re a plucky one,” said John, admir- 
ingly, as he shouldered the bulky sack and 
walked off. 

“I don’t see how you can talk to those odious 
fellows,” said Ada, crossly. 

“Well, we must have more or less of their 
company, and it seems to me the best policy to 
make friends of them if we can. Hark! that 
must be the call to dinner. ’ ’ 

A loud blast from a horn was heard in the 
direction of the house, and every soul left the 
hop yard as though fleeing from destruction. 

“Hurry! Hurry!” shouted Tilly Mickells. 
‘ ‘ The ragamuffins are ahead of us and we shall 
be late again,” and she dashed off followed by 
the rest, with more or less speed. 

Ehoda was too dignified to run. “ I ’ll go with- 
out my dinner if I must scramble for it,” she 


58 


THE HOP PICKERS 


said to Ann Mathers, who was walking by her 
side and who was never known to hurry under 
any circumstances. When they reached the 
house they found the washbowls and towels all 
in use. The box-tenders were on the ground 
first and were using them, while a ragged, hun- 
gry, sunburned crowd of girls stood waiting for 
their turn. 

Hop picking is very clean work if one is pre- 
pared for it, but if it is done with bare hands, 
a dark, sticky substance like glue clings to the 
fingers and leaves a disagreeable odor which is 
only removed by hard rubbing. The Minnichute 
girls found, by taking off their thick, long gloves 
which protected their hands and sleeves, and the 
long aprons which covered them from throat to 
ankle, together with the big sunbonnets which 
kept unruly locks from flying about, they could 
make a very respectable appearance at the din- 
ner table without waiting their turn at the wash- 
bowl. 

‘‘I could never use those soiled towels,’’ said 
May Becket in disgust. 


GETTING USED TO IT 59 

The dinner was excellent and abundant, and 
the girls had sharp appetites for it after spend- 
ing the whole forenoon in the open air. ‘‘We 
eat like thrashers, ’ ^ said Tilly Mickells, who had 
lived on a farm. 

“I don’t believe they will make much out of us 
if it takes such a lot of good things to feed us,” 
said Myra Jennings, when they were tying on 
their bonnets again. 

“Our box-tender told us Mrs. Johnson 
wouldn’t keep pickers who didn’t fill at least 
one box a day, and she expects us to average 
three,” remarked one of the girls. 

“Oh, dear! I think she is an awful task- 
master,” sighed one of the twins. 

“No one ever says anything about Mr. John- 
son,” observed May Becket. 

‘ ‘ Oh, he ’s henpecked, ’ ’ said Flora. ' ‘ I heard 
our box-tender telling another that the little 
woman kept him at the hop house all the time to 
attend to the drying, and that everything about 
the place had to go as she orders. John says 


60 THE HOP PICKERS 

he has been here three seasons, and he has never 

seen Mr Johnson in the hop yardJ’ 

The work in the afternoon dragged somewhat. 
The hot sun was wilting and the odor of the 
hops made the girls sleepy. But the fear of 
the tjnrant at the house kept many tired fingers 
of the little girls at work until each box was 
filled once, when they felt at liberty to rest and 
dawdle as much as they pleased. 


CHAPTER Vn 


JOHN IS ADOPTED 

T hey soon fell into a routine and were quite 
at home. Most of them were so tired and 
sleepy at night they didn’t mind the hard beds, 
and the good food, the out-of-door life, and the 
jolly laughing, singing, and chatting going on 
all the time made the days seem a continuous 
picnic. 

The little girls were particularly happy. 
After a few days’ practice they became expert 
pickers, usually working industriously in the 
mornings and playing afternoons. 

They soon adopted J ohn, petting him and ty- 
rannizing over him by turns. He seemed to 
like it and became their willing slave, never 
being too busy or too tired to wait on them and 
look after their comfort. One day he took Jes- 
sie Morton’s shoe to the hop house to pound 
61 


62 THE HOP PICKERS 

down a nail that hurt her foot, again he found 
a pin to fasten together a rent in another little 
girPs apron. He ran on errands for them and 
to the house for forgotten wraps, and was al- 
ways prompt to bring hop poles or fresh water 
whenever he heard their shrill voices calling 
for them. He even coaxed a nervous little girl 
to let him pull out the loose tooth that troubled 
her. 

The whole party were usually tired enough to 
go to bed soon after the six o’clock supper, and 
while they were undressing they generally 
chatted, exchanging experiences and the news 
of the day. 

‘‘What a jolly girl you are, Jennie Dill,” re- 
marked Minnie Waters one night, as she sat on 
her bed brushing her bright hair. “We can 
hear you laughing all the time down by our 
stand. It almost makes us jolly, too.” 

“Wky don’t you laugh on your own ac- 
count?” asked Jennie. “Don’t you like it 
here?” 

“Yes, better than I did. I was awful home- 


JOHN IS ADOPTED 


63 


sick at first. Got used to it now, I suppose. 
But that Ann Mathers is so solemn and poky 
we can’t have much fun at our stand on her 
account.” 

‘‘Why don’t you chat with your box-ten- 
ders?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, they’re too horrid ! I don’t want to en- 
courage them.” 

“I don’t see how you girls can do it!” said 
May Becket. “I can’t bear to speak to them, 
and I always feel relieved when Perry goes 
away from my box.” 

“I hate that old Perry,” said Kitty, wrath- 
fully. “He’s always chucking me under my 
chin, and calls me ‘sissy.’ ” 

“He probably thinks you’re a little girl, my 
dear. We will have to tell him you belong 
to the grown-ups,” remarked Myra Jen- 
nings. 

“Perry and Simmons are improving, aren’t 
they. May?” asked Jennie. 

“Yes, I suppose they are,” admitted May. 
“Rhoda is civilizing them. She talks to them 


64 THE HOP PICKERS 

in her polite way, and to-day Simmons seemed 

almost bashful/’ 

‘^Well, Flora told John we weren’t used to 
swearing and didn’t like it. Since then he never 
swears near our stand, and told us he was trying 
to break himself of the habit. We all like him, 
he is so good-natured and kind.” 

‘‘John is more decent than the rest of them. 
If I had him to work on I might try missionary 
work, too.” 

“Has any one found out who the Princess 
is!” asked Nelly. “John told me to-day that 
she is Mrs. Johnson’s niece. She’s a widow. 
John doesn’t like her. He says she’s too temp- 
ery and toppin’ to suit him. She’s poor and 
lives with Mrs. Johnson because she has no 
other home,” said Flora. 

“I’d go to the poor house before I’d live with 
Vinegar-Pot!” said Tilly, shaking her head. 

“I’m glad I don’t have to do either. I’d 
rather be a plain hop picker,” remarked Nina 
Taylor. 

“Plain hop pickers are tired and sleepy at 


JOHN IS ADOPTED 


65 


bed time. They’d better stop chattering and go 
to sleep,” said Rhoda’s gentle voice from her 
dim corner. They all agreed and there was no 
more talk that night. 

The next afternoon several of the little girls 
collected round ‘‘Number One,” as Flora’s and 
Jennie’s “stand” was called, as it stood first in 
the row. The day was unusually warm and 
some of them felt rather sleepy, when one little 
girl noticed several partly filled sacks which 
John had left near the stand. “What a nice 
place for a nap!” she cried, curling up on one 
of them. 

A dozen others followed her example, lying 
close together on the soft beds, most of them 
closing their eyes at once. But they were not 
allowed to enjoy this luxury very long. The 
boss came hurrying up, saying angrily ; ‘ ‘ Here, 
you ! git out o’ this 1 It’s agin the rules to lay 
on the hops. Go to work now! Ye didn’t come 
here to fool round, did ye?” 

They all jumped up, mortified at the scolding 
and disgusted by the rudeness of the boss. No 


66 


THE HOP PICKERS 


one said a word to Rim, and after muttering 
something about getting ‘‘docked’^ if he ever 
‘^seen ’em at it agin,” he walked off, leaving 
the party angrily discussing his impudence. 

*‘Oh, never you mind Jim Peters,” said John, 
when he was told of the incident. ‘‘He means 
well enough, but he’s got the ‘big head’ because 
he’s boss this year. He ain’t used to it.” 

“But does it really hurt the hops to lie on 
them?” asked Flora. 

“Well, I don’t s’pose it does ’em any good, 
but I reckon they ain’t spiled by it.” 

‘ ‘ I wonder who told that horrid man we were 
lying on them,” said Ada Fay. 

“Them critters over there, I reckon,” an- 
swered John, nodding toward the bare-footed 
band who were looking in their direction and 
laughing loudly. 

“Who are those girls?” asked Rhoda. 

“A low-down set from over beyond Mud 
Creek. Mostly Irish and Dutch. Johnson’s 
folks like ’em ’cause they’re such good pickers, 
but they’re always rowin’ round nights and 


JOHN IS ADOPTED 


67 


havin’ fights. They’ve been pretty civil so far. 
Reckon they’re a little afraid of the missus.” 

‘ ‘ J ohn ! ’ ’ called Flora, beckoning at the same 
time to the box-tender, who grinned and walked 
to where she was standing behind a pole whose 
vine made a screen from the Mud Creekites. 

The Minnichute girls could not hear what was 
said, but they saw Flora smile as she looked up 
into John’s face, and then point to a sack of 
hops. He left her standing there, and presently 
came back with a large bag, well-filled, which 
he placed in the shadow of the vine. Flora lay 
down on it and the box-tender left her for other 
duties. 

‘‘Flora has begun to wind John round her 
finger,” remarked Nelly. 

“Well, he seems to enjoy it,” said Jennie, 
laughing. 

“But, I say, that ain’t fair!” protested Jes- 
sie. “Flora always gets the best of everything 
herself.” 

“John belongs to us. Flora has no business 
to get him away,” cried Jessie’s twin. 


68 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘I’m going to ask him to make a bed for ns 
where the boss can’t see ns,” annonnced Kitty 
Dill. 

“Bnt John’s gone,” remarked Nelly, push- 
ing back her sunbonnet and looking around. 
“Besides, he probably wouldn’t do it for 
you. ’ ’ 

“Why, yes, he would too, Nelly. He does 
everything we ask him to,” protested her little 
sister, indignantly. “Let’s go and get him, 
girls, and see if he won’t,” she went on. 

They ran off together and before very long 
the older girls saw them lying in a row on well- 
filled sacks by the side of the sleeping Flora. 

“That isn’t right, John,” protested Jennie, 
when the box-tender came to her box in a few 
minutes after this. “We ought to obey the 
rules of the place. ’ ’ 

“Don’t you worry,” he said, laughing. 
“You’ll see there ain’t no harm done. I’m just 
gittin’ even with Peters. He’ll be round pretty 
soon and then we ’ll have some fun. ’ ’ 

“I hope he won’t be cross to our little girls,” 


JOHN IS ADOPTED 69 

said Ehoda anxiously. really think they 
should not he lying on those bags.’^ 

She began to walk toward the children, but 
before she reached them the boss hurried to the 
little group and angrily ordered them to leave 
the bags. Flora rose at once and went back to 
her stand, but the children appeared to be sleep- 
ing soundly. Their faces were hidden by their 
sunbonnets, but when Rhoda came nearer she 
saw their little bodies shaking, and one or two 
of them giggled outright. 

‘^Wait a minute, Rhoda. It^s a joke. Don’t 
spoil our fun,” whispered Kitty, when her sister 
tried to make her rise. 

The boss was furious, as he saw that the chil- 
dren were awake and defying his authority. He 
put his hand on the shoulder of the child near- 
est to him and shook her roughly. 

‘‘You let my pickers alone, Peters!” cried 
John, coming up behind the boss and speaking 
in a threatening tone. 

“I ain’t a-goin’ to have ’em lyin’ on the hops. 
You know it’s agin’ the rules as well as I do,” 


70 THE HOP PICKERS 

said Peters, stepping out of range of John’s 

long arms. 

^‘You’re interferin’ in what’s none o’ your 
business. Them girls is goin’ to sleep on them 
sacks as long as they please,” returned John 
in a blustering manner, and emphasizing his 
words by striking one closed fist in the paim of 
the other hand. 

The boss seemed cowed, and fell back as John 
stepped toward him, and began mumbling under 
his breath. The older girls were standing in a 
circle back of the men, waiting to see how the 
matter would end. They felt sure that John 
was wrong and that the boss had a right to en- 
force the rules, but Kitty’s hint made them 
think best to wait a little before interfering. 

Several box-tenders also came up to the group 
to see what was going on. Peters was very un- 
popular in the hop yard. He was considered 
a coward and a bully, while John was respected 
and liked by everybody. No one had any sym- 
pathy with the boss in his dilemma. At the 
same time, the spirit in the yard, among the 


JOHN IS ADOPTED 


71 


men, at least, was in favor of ‘‘fair play.’’ 
Some of them now felt obliged to take sides with 
Peters. “See here. Jack, that ain’t right. 
Yon know it spiles the hops to lay on ’em,” be- 
gan Simmons, protestingly. 

“That ain’t the question,” returned John. 
“Pete says my girls can’t take a nap on them 
bags. I say they can. ” 

“Pete didn’t make the rule. He’s got to do 
as Johnson says. You know that. Jack,” said 
Perry. 

“All right, I’m willin’ to leave it to Johnson, 
and if you fellers are goin’ to take a hand in 
this row you go git him, and if he sides with 
Peters, I’ll stand treat to the crowd,” returned 
John, in his usual, good-natured voice. 

The men were puzzled and believed that some 
trick was being played. But there seemed noth- 
ing else to do, so Perry and Simmons ran up to 
the hop house and came back immediately, al- 
most dragging the unwilling Mr. Johnson be- 
tween them. 

“What’s this mean. Jack,” he said, mildly, 


72 


THE HOP PICKERS 


when the situation was explained to him. ^‘You 
know we can^t have folks lyin’ on the hops, don’t 
ye?” 

“Of course I do, Mr. Johnson. You never 
caught me breakin’ no rules, did ye? My pick- 
ers ain’t lyin’ on no hops,” said John calmly. 

“Well, what’s all this row about then?” said 
the bewildered man. 

“Come here and see!” The little girls 
jumped up laughing and ran away, while John 
opened a number of the sacks and showed that 
they were filled with straw. 

There was a roar of laughter and clapping 
of hands in the crowd, which now numbered 
most of the pickers in the yard. The joke was 
on Peters. Mr. Johnson looked relieved and 
slipped away, while the boss ran to the barn 
and locked himself in to escape the teasing 
which immediately began. 

“I think you were a little too hard on 
Peters, John,” said Jennie, when they were 
talking the matter over later. “He was doing 
what he thought was right.” 


JOHN IS ADOPTED 


73 


‘‘Well, lie needn’t ’a’ been so uppish about 
it,” replied John. “I reckon he’s learned a 
thing or two, and he’ll quit bein’ rough to my 
pickers, anyhow.” 


CHAPTER Vni 


THE HOP PICKING CONTEST 

‘‘ TUST been pullin’ a pole for that humbly 
V girl in your crowd,” remarked John, 
coming up to No. One. ‘‘I never see her beat 
for slowness.” 

suppose you mean Ann Mathers,” said 
Jennie. ‘H’m surprised to hear that about her, 
for she told me she picked three boxes a day 
regularly. ’ ’ 

reckon she does. But she keeps at it 
early and late. Never lets up a minute, but 
just keeps peggin’ away all the time. If she 
was a fast picker she’d make her five boxes a 
day. But, my goodness ! You girls could pick 
round her forty times a day.” 

‘‘Flora is our champion picker,” said Jen- 
nie. “If she’d try I believe she’d beat the 
whole yard.’^ 

Flora smiled complacently, but she said: 

74 


THE HOP PICKING CONTEST 75 
‘‘Oh, no, Jennie! I only pick three boxes a 
day at the most, and I often fall short of that.’^ 

“But that’s because you don’t half try,” 
said Jennie. “You spend less time in picking 
than any of us.” 

Just then Nina Taylor came running up, 
laughing. “Flora, what do you suppose Ann 
Mathers said just now?” she asked. 

“Can’t imagine.” 

“Well, we were laughing at her slowness, 
and she said that she picked as much as any one 
and she believed she could beat you in a match 
because you are too lazy to stick to anything, 
even for one day.” 

“Tell her I’ll race with her to-morrow,” said 
Flora, nettled at the uncomplimentary opinion 
of plain Ann Mathers. 

Nina ran off, delighted to “put down” the 
stupid girl who made herself so disagreeable 
by her never-ending industry and her disap- 
proval of the frivolous chatter about her. For 
Nina had no doubt that the contest would end 
in Flora’s favor. 


76 


THE HOP PICKERS 


Ann agreed to the match very readily, and 
it was arranged to come off the next day. 
There was a good deal of fun and laughter 
round the Minnichute boxes that afternoon, as 
the affair became known. The box-tenders 
were much interested, taking sides with one or 
the other of the contestants. 

The next morning, when the girls reached 
the yard, they found Ann Mathers at her post, 
sober, as usual, and working in her slow 
fashion. 

“Well, Ann,^^ said Jennie, laughing as she 
passed her, “you certainly have the start of 
Flora. Did you stay here all night?’' 

“No,” said the literal Ann. “I came out 
right after breakfast. I asked Simmons to 
pull a pole for me last night so I needn’t lose 
any time.” 

“Well, I must tell Flora to look out or she’ll 
be beaten after all,” said Jennie, briskly call- 
ing “hops” on her way to her box. 

But Flora did not come to the yard until 
some time after the others were at work, for 


THE HOP PICKING CONTEST 77 


she meant to show every one that she need not 
hurry. She had a wrap over her arm and car- 
ried a hook which she had smuggled along with 
her finery, and which she often read during her 
frequent rests on the straw sack. 

‘‘You don’t intend to read to-day, do you?” 
exclaimed Ada Fay. 

“Why not,” answered Flora, as she threw 
down her waterproof and hook and drew on 
her long gloves. 

“Ann Mathers has been at work for two 
hours. Flora,” said Jennie, anxiously. “You 
really ought to pitch in in earnest now.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Jen,” said Flora, care- 
lessly, as she commenced to pick the uncom- 
monly large hops which John had brought to 
her. It was all he could do, for by the terms 
of the agreement no one was to help the rival 
pickers by as much as a single hop. 

Flora worked steadily, but without seeming 
to be in haste, until her box was full, which 
was a few minutes before Ann was ready to 
have hers emptied for the first time. Of 


78 


THE HOP PICKERS 


course, there was a good deal of running back 
and forth between the boxes that forenoon to 
watch the progress of the race. 

‘‘Why, Ann, what makes you think you can 
beat Flora?” asked Kitty. “She^s ahead of 
you already, and you had ever so much the 
start.” 

“Just wait and see,” answered Ann, stol- 
idly, as she picked away steadily and slowly. 

"When Flora’s first box was emptied she 
seated herself on her sack and began to read. 
She intended to show her contempt for Ann 
Mathers and her opinion by taking more lei- 
sure than usual on this day. John and the 
little girls regarded her coolness with great 
admiration and no one had a doubt that she 
would win. Of course Ann’s progress was re- 
ported to her from time to time, also the fact 
that her box-tender was scouring the yard for 
vines with the largest, thickest bunches of 
hops, and that he never kept her waiting a 
minute for a fresh vine. 



“I must finish this chapter first/’ answered Flora, with her 
eyes still fixed on the book. 



i 







THE HOP PICKING CONTEST 


79 


“She’s got her second box half full, Flora. 
Don’t yon think you’d better begin on yours?” 
said Minnie Waters, rather anxiously. 

“I must finish this chapter first,” answered 
Flora, with her eyes still fixed on her book. 

John had a splendid vine ready for her when 
she finally went to work, and by the time the 
dinner horn sounded her box was filled and 
emptied not a minute behind Ann, who had 
taken twice the time for the same task. 

“I swan to goodness!” exclaimed John. “I 
never see the beat of such pickin’. Perry must 
be sick,” he went on in disgust, “to bet on that 
snail over there.” 

Flora laughed gayly, and John hastened 
away to crow over Perry, who had little to say 
when told of Flora’s marvelous swiftness. 

Indeed, the interest in the race had rather 
died away by dinner-time, as it had been 
clearly proved a one-sided affair. After din- 
ner Flora filled her third box long before her 
rival had done the same, and then, declaring 


80 


THE HOP PICKERS 


that she was going to take a long nap and on 
no account was she to he disturbed, she was 
soon asleep in the shade of a friendly vine. 

Ann hardly lifted her eyes from her work 
when this fact was reported to her, and no one 
could tell from the expression of her face that 
she had either hope or fear as to the result of 
the race. The afternoon hours glided along. 
The girls worked and played and gossiped 
round their stands, as usual, and Flora was 

f 

almost forgotten until all at once it was dis- 
covered that Ann Mathers was picking on the 
last half of her fourth box, and that the sun 
was throwing long shadows, telling them there 
was but a short time before supper. 

Perry, why didn’t you tell me how late it 
was?” cried Minnie Waters in dismay, when 
after a long nap she had herself taken, she dis- 
covered the state of affairs. 

‘‘I hadn’t got no call to tell ye,” said Perry, 
with a grin. ‘‘But I reckon t’other one might 
as well hang up her fiddle. We’ve got her 
beat.” 


THE HOP PICKING CONTEST 81 

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair,” said Minnie, 
running off to Flora’s stand. 

Jennie had tried once or twice during the 
last hour to waken Flora, who begged impa- 
tiently to be left alone to finish her nap, de- 
claring that there was plenty of time. But 
when Minnie came to her with the news she 
sprang to her work in earnest. 

J ohn stood by her box with an anxious face. 
He had been called to the hop house to help 
Mr. Johnson with the presses, and had left his 
post with an inexperienced box-tender, very 
reluctantly, for though he had no fears of the 
result he wanted to be on hand to watch the 
contest. He had only just returned, and found 
to his astonishment that Flora had been asleep 
all the afternoon. 

“Girls, what made you let me sleep so long!” 
cried Flora, reproachfully. 

“Let you!” echoed Jennie, indignantly. 
“Didn’t you give orders not to waken you, 
and didn’t I try my best to get your eyes open 
in spite of that? I call that mean!” 


82 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘So it is,’’ said Flora. “I ought to be 
ashamed of myself, and I am.” 

Jennie’s good nature came back instantly. 
“I believe it will come out all right yet if you 
hurry,” she said, encouragingly. 

Flora’s fingers were flying now with the 
greatest speed. But seven bushels of hops 
cannot be picked in a moment, and consequently 
her box was only half full when the supper horn 
sounded. 

Ann’s fourth box had been emptied by the 
jeering Perry. Ann stood silently receiving 
the congratulations of a crowd of girls, and 
Fanny Jennings was about to pin on her sleeve 
a bit of ribbon which they had agreed should 
be worn by the winner as a badge of cham- 
pionship. 

Flora was very much chagrined. John said 
nothing, but he looked hurt and disappointed, 
and shook his fist in Perry’s face when the lat- 
ter came up to tantalize him. 

“It’s too bad, Flo,” said Jennie, sympathiz- 
ingly, saying not a word of reproach. 


THE HOP PICKING CONTEST 


83 


Minnie was not so generous. ‘‘It’s all Flo’s 
fault,” she declared angrily. “I haven’t a hit 
of patience with her. Now that horrid Ann 
Mathers will be more disgustingly conceited 
than eyer. I’m going to pick at some other 
stand.” 

“John!” said Flora, suddenly. “I’m com- 
ing out to pick after supper. Nothing has been 
said about the time, and I’m not going to call 
the contest ended.” 

“That’s so!” declared John, much delighted. 
“There’s quite a spell before dark. Just you 
git your supper and hurry back, and I’ll be 
findin’ a lot of good. vines for you.” 

The opposite side objected to this arrange- 
ment, but as there had been no time limit speci- 
fied, they were obliged to yield. Supper was 
eaten quickly, and they were back in their 
places, each contestant surrounded by an eager 
crowd. 

But the daylight was going fast. It was 
hard to tell hops from leaves. “Never you 
mind ! ’ ’ said J ohn. “ I ’ll have a light here in no 


84 THE HOP PICKERS 

And running to the hop house, he soon 
came back with a lighted lantern. 

Perry had one for Ann almost as quickly 
and the excitement was running high, when a 
loud and angry toot from the dinner horn was 
heard in the direction of the house. ‘‘That’s 
the missus!” said John, in dismay. “She’s 
heard of this and don’t mean to allow 
it.” 

“Oh, John,” said Flora, eagerly. “If I can 
only have fifteen minutes, I can win, I know I 
can. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said John, “go ahead! Perhaps we 
can make it yet.” 

But the picking was not allowed to go on. 
The boss came up and commanded them to 
stop. “It’s agin the rules,” he said, “to pick 
after daylight.” 

“But we have a good light, don’t you see,” 
began Flora. 

“It don’t make no difference,” he inter- 
rupted. “You’ve got to quit.” 

‘ ‘ Who says so ? ” demanded J ohn. ‘ ‘ I never 


THE HOP PICKING CONTEST 


85 


heard of such a rule, and I don’t believe there 
is one!” 

‘‘Well, IVe got orders to have ’em quit right 
off,” said the boss, backing away from John^ 
“and if you don’t believe it you’ll soon see for 
yourself. Mrs. Johnson will be here in a 
minute. She left the house when I did, and 
she’s mad as a hornet.” 

This terrible announcement made a great 
panic at once. The girls tumbled off their 
perches on the boxes and fled to the house. 
Flora with them, as much frightened as any 
one. 

The alarm was a false one, made by the boss 
entirely for effect. Mrs. Johnson had not 
even heard of the contest. When this was dis- 
covered it was too late to go back to the hop 
yard. Ann was declared winner by a quarter 
of a box and Flora went to bed very much 
chagrined. 

John was very angry when he found how 
the boss had fooled them, and declared that 
he would punish bim the next time he saw him. 


86 THE HOP PICKERS 

But he concluded to say nothing about it when 
Simmons reminded him that it was a case of 
‘ ‘ tit-f or-tat. ’ ’ Peters ^ trick was no worse than 
his own, and he would have to call matters 


even. 


CHAPTER IX 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 

f I ^HE next day was their first Sunday in the 
^ hop region. Breakfast was two hours 
later than usual, which gave the girls time for 
a more thorough use of the washbowls than 
usual, and to dress as they did at home. 

The short calico gowns were exchanged for 
neat, dark woolen ones, brightened by bows of 
bright ribbons and collars and cuffs of em- 
broidery and lace. There was much frizzing 
and curling and coiling of hair which had hung 
in straight braids for so many days. It was a 
great transformation. The long-aproned, sun- 
bonneted, striped gloved hop pickers, all look- 
ing alike, had turned into a bevy of fair, taste- 
fully dressed young girls. Even Ann Mathers, 
who was no beauty, looked neat and fresh and 
quite a lady, with a pink bow at her throat and 
87 


88 THE HOP PICKERS 

white collar and cuffs on her plain alpaca 

dress. 

Don’t we look nice!” said Nina Taylor, 
settling down on the edge of the porch where 
the company had collected to wait for the tardy 
breakfast. 

‘‘I like myself ever so much better in good 
clothes,” remarked Myra Jennings. 

‘‘So does every one,” said Nelly Morton. 
“I think nice clothes are necessary for self- 
respect.” 

“They make people respect you anyway,” 
added her sister Jessie. 

The “Low Downs” must be an exception to 
that rule,” remarked Lizzie Becket, looking 
toward a group of girls waiting near the 
dining-room door. They were dressed in the 
dirty rags worn during the week, with hair 
uncombed and feet bare. 

“Mercy! how wrathy they look!” exclaimed 
Jennie. “They’d like to tear us to pieces.” 

“I believe Mrs. Vinegar-Pot thinks we’re all 
like those girls, and that’s the reason she 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 89 
treats us so mean/’ exclaimed Tilly Mickells, 
alighting on the truth with a shrewd guess, for 
Mrs. Johnson had been too busy to make any 
inquiries about the new pickers and had hardly 
given them a thought during the week. The 
agent had been told to get girls who were used 
to out-of-door work and rough fare. She sup- 
posed the order had been carried out, and so 
after glancing at their short dresses, coarse 
shoes, and sunbonnets when they arrived, she 
had set them down as the usual ignorant, 
brawling crew which must be fought and en- 
dured until the season was over. 

But one glance at the transformed party at 
the breakfast table this Sunday morning 
showed her that she had been deceived. By 
inquiry she found that she had twenty-two 
daughters of the best families of Minnichute and 
Atwood, whom she had been treating with very 
little courtesy, to say the least. 

Mr. Johnson had to bear the brunt of her 
vexation. The poor man had been afraid to 
tell her that he had not brought home the usual 


90 THE HOP PICKERS 

sort for fear that she would send them back 
again. Her belief was strong that village girls 
were of '‘no account to work. The demand 
for pickers had been so great this year that it 
was impossible to get enough experienced 
pickers, so the villages, towns, and cities had 
been canvassed to supply the demand, and 
growers generally had been glad to secure 
"hands’’ from any quarter. So he had taken 
these village girls, and tried to palm them off 
on his wife. But Mrs. Johnson had a good 
deal of hard sense. The girls had proved good 
pickers and made no extra trouble, so she re- 
solved to make the best of things as they were. 

After breakfast the girls wandered around 
the grounds and hop yard, in the soft Septem- 
ber sunshine. Some of them sat down in 
groups to enjoy a quiet chat under the trees, 
and many home letters were scribbled with 
lead pencils. 

About ten o ’clock a shining, new carriage and 
a handsome pair of bay horses drove up to 
the gate. Mrs. Johnson rustled out of the house 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 91 
followed by the beautiful ^‘Princess/’ They 
were both fashionably dressed, although they 
would have looked rather outlandish in these 
days of short scant skirts. 

Mrs. Johnson’s black silk gown and Miranda’s 
light ^‘sprigged delaine,” had full skirts, at 
least six yards around the bottom, and were long 
enough to touch the ground. They were dis- 
tended over crinoline, or ‘^hoop skirts,” as 
village people called this article of dress, and 
they swayed and dipped like balloons in a light 
breeze as they walked along. The shoulder 
seams of their waists were very long, extending 
several inches down their arms, and the large 
full sleeves were like those of a Bishop’s gown. 
Mrs. Johnson wore a white straw bonnet 
trimmed with white ribbon, which was pleated 
into a cape or ‘‘frill” at the back of the bonnet. 
Rows of this ribbon adorned the crown and long 
strings tied the expensive head gear under her 
plump chin, while a row of artificial pink roses 
were nestled in soft “tulle” inside of the flar- 
ing front. 


92 THE HOP PICKERS 

Miranda’s head covering was also fashion- 
able, though very unlike her companion’s fine 
bonnet. It was also made of white straw and 
was called a ‘ ‘ flat. ’ ’ It had a very wide drooping 
brim with a low crown trimmed with a wreath 
of green leaves and red berries. Both wore 
black lace ‘^mitts’’ on their hands, and on their 
high cut waists wide crocheted lace collars. Mrs. 
Johnson walked up to a group of girls, and to 
their utter astonishment said with a smile, 
‘^You’ll find some books to read if you like in 
the bookcase in the settin’ room,” and handing 
a key to Rhoda, she and the princess stepped 
into the carriage and drove away to church in 
the village two miles away. 

‘‘My! don’t they look grand ! exclaimed 
Tilly, when they were gone. “I wish we could 
have brought our hoop skirts along; I feel 
ashamed to be seen without mine.” 

“But you know the agent said you mustn’t 
wear ’em ’cause there wouldn’t be room in 
the wagons if you did,” remarked Hattie. 

“Yes, I know,” said Tilly, “but Ada and 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 93 
Nina and Minnie managed to bring theirs. The 
clerk in Ada’s father’s store wrapped them np 
for them, so they were about as big as a pan- 
cake.” 

‘‘I’m glad Vinegar Pot and the Princess will 
see that some of us know the fashions any way,” 
said Flora. “Ada brought her balmoral petti- 
coat too,” she went on, “and she’s going to 
show us sometime how she loops her skirt over 
it.” 

“The balmoral is the very latest fashion,” 
remarked Nina. “She’s got it on now, perhaps 
she’ll show us this afternoon how she works 
the loopmg business.” 

“Oh, goody!” cried Tilly clapping her hands. 
“Ada will make old Vinegar Pot and the Prin- 
cess green with envy.” 

“What is a balmoral?” asked Jessie. “I 
never saw one.” 

“Oh, you green horn; I’ve seen lots of ’em,” 
said a very little girl, in a piping voice. 

“ Where ’d you see ’em. Mousy?” asked TiUy. i 
“It must have been in your dreams, for Ada 


94 


THE HOP PICKERS 


says hers is the only one in Minnichute. Her 
father bought it in Chicago.’’ 

^^Well, anyhow, I saw Ada’s skirt a lot of 
times,” said little Mousy snuggling down by 
Rhoda’s side on the grass. 

‘^Perhaps Ada will show us her loops now,” 
said Rhoda, with her arm round Mousy. 

‘ ‘ Of course I will, ’ ’ said Ada good naturedly, 
when half a dozen voices made the request. She 
put her hand through a slit in the skirt of her 
green silk gown and pulled a string concealed 
beneath it, causing her dress to rise mysteriously 
in loops or scallops, showing a gorgeous striped 
petticoat. The stripes were three or four inches 
wide with black ones of the same width between 
the bright-blue, red and yellow ones. They all 
ran horizontally around over a large full crino- 
line. The girls oh’d and ah’d their wonder and 
admiration, and then the irrepressible TiUy 
remarked : 

‘‘Why, you look like a barber’s pole, swelled 
into a balloon.” 

Many of the girls laughed, and Ada, deeply 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 95 


offended, lowered the wonderful loops and 
walked away. Tilly ran after her to apologize, 
while Rhoda unlocked the book-case and many 
of the girls selected books, according to their 
various tastes. The books were all new and 
handsomely bound, looking as though they had 
never been used, and were the usual assortment 
of History, Travels, Poetry and Fiction. 

The ‘^Low Downs” had by this time gone 
out of sight and hearing. It was very quiet 
through the house and grounds, in delicious 
contrast to the noise of the week. The girls 
found quiet nooks and comers with their books 
and writing materials, enjoying very much their 
new-found comfort. 

Mousy was a very clever little girl. She had 
a sharp nose and shrewd bright eyes, and was 
the leader of the younger set in fun and mis- 
chief. She had watched Mrs. Johnson and Mir- 
anda when they walked to their carriage, and 
after the older girls were settled quietly read- 
ing or writing, she seemed to be in a brown 
study, and then suddenly jumped up and called 


96 THE HOP PICKERS 

to the other members of the ‘ ^ trundle bed 
trash,’’ as the youngsters were named. They 
were playing among the vines of the hop yard, 
but when they heard her voice, they were sure 
she had some new scheme for them, and hur- 
ried to her. After whispering to them a mo- 
ment, they all trooped off to the hop house in a 
state of giggles. 

Mousy has thought of some new mischief,” 
remarked Tilly, as the children rushed away. 

‘^Well, at least we’ll have a little peace and 
quiet while they’re gone,” said Flora, turning 
over a leaf in her book. 

In about half an hour the mischief makers 
came marching back, a funny little procession. 
In some mysterious way they had contrived 
to make their full dresses stand out from their 
bodies, in a grotesque imitation of crinoline. On 
Kitty’s head was perched the large round cover 
of a cheese box, a hole, several inches wide in 
the middle allowing this evident imitation of a 
‘‘flat” to fit her head. 

Hattie and Jessie wore big poke bonnets. 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 97 
fashioned from paste board boxes, with rows of 
pink bollybocks inside tbe flaring brims. Tbe 
others wore large leaves of rhubarb on their 
beads for flats,’’ and some of them bad collars 
made from white paper notched and scalloped 
with many boles in them to look like crocheted 
work. 

As they came swaying and dipping their ridic- 
ulous little skirts and holding their heads hack 
atfectedly, with haughty expressions on their 
round faces, they were plainly mimicking Mrs. 
Johnson and the Princess. 

The older girls recognized the burlesque at 
once and hurst into peals of laughter, Tilly and 
Nina rolling on the grass and holding their sides. 

“Where on earth did you get those hoop 
skirts,” asked Tilly when she could speak. 

“That’s our secret, and we don’t tell secrets,” 
said Mousy mockingly. 

At a word from the leader they all whirled 
around, spreading out their skirts and made 
“cheeses” by squatting suddenly on the 
ground. 


98 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘Let^s catch ’em and find out what they have 
on, ’ ’ said Ada springing toward the group. The 
other big girls also made a rush forward, but 
the youngsters were too quick for them, and 
ran screaming to the hop house. All would have 
reached their refuge in safety, if Hattie hadn’t 
lost her bonnet and stopped to pick it up, when 
she was captured and ignominiously examined. 

‘‘For mercy’s sake,” cried Jennie laughing 
immoderately. “If the little tykes haven’t run 
the wire they use for baling hops into the 
tucks and hems of their petticoats ! ’ ’ 

“Well, it’s just for fun, Jen, and I think it’s 
mean for you to go and find out our secret,” 
said Hattie angrily and almost crying. 

“Yes, of course, you did it for fun, dear, and 
there’s no harm in it and it certainly was aw- 
fully funny. But won’t you please tell us how 
you managed to get the wire cut just the right 
length, and who made those excruciating bon- 
nets and flats.” 

“Two of the boxtenders, but I promised not to 
tell on them and I’m not going to,” said the 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 99 
child grinning, now quite happy and relieved 
since they were not to be scolded for their little 
escapade. 

‘^Here comes the carriage!’^ cried Tilly. 
‘‘Hurry, Hattie, and tell the others to take off 
their flats and bonnets and wires as quick as 
they can. If Mrs. Johnson saw you making fun 
of her she would be mad, and perhaps she ’d send 
us all home.’’ 

The frightened child sped to the hop house 
with flying feet and in a few moments she and 
her companions came back looking as demure 
as harmless kittens. When the great bays 
drove up, two flashily dressed young men 
jumped from the carriage, helped Mrs. John- 
son and the princess to the ground, and then 
walked with them to the house. 

Presently the blinds of windows were opened 
in a part of the house which had been closed. 
The girls caught glimpses of white lace cur- 
tains, gold frames against the walls, and crim- 
son velvet furniture. A careless hand drawn 
across a keyboard told them they had been 


100 


THE HOP PICKERS 


separated from a grand piano only by a wall. 

^‘Wbat a shame that we didn^t know of that 
before!^’ cried Jennie, indignantly. 

“You must remember, dear,’^ said Rhoda, 
“that Mrs. Johnson engaged us to pick her 
hops and not to play on her piano. We have 
really nothing to complain of but our sleeping- 
quarters. ’ ^ 

“That’s so,” said Jennie. “We’re nothing 
but hop pickers, and we mustn’t expect too 
much condescension from our betters. Never- 
theless, I’m hungry and thirsting for that 
piano. ’ ’ 

“I wonder where she picked up those dan- 
dies!” said Tilly. 

“They don’t belong round here,” remarked 
Ada. 

“My! what a contrast to the pole-pullers,” 
added Minnie. 

“What a comfort it is to see a gentleman 
once more,” said Nina, with a sigh. 

“Pooh!” cried Jennie. “ ‘Fine feathers 
make fine birds.’ Those fellows had very com- 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 101 


mon faces, and I don’t think they were very 
polite. Did you see them stare at usT’ 

Jennie would have been confirmed in her im- 
pression if she had heard the conversation 
going on then in the parlor. Both young men 
had thrown their hats on the floor and were 
sprawling on the handsome sofas. One pair 
of shining boots went up on the velvet arm of 
a large chair, but came down again quickly 
when Mrs. Johnson called out sharply: ‘‘Sim, 
take your feet otf that chair, and if you want 
to smoke, go out-doors,” for a big cigar was 
now in the young man’s mouth. 

“Confound your furniture!” growled Sim. 
“What do you have things too fine to use for? 
Wlien a feller comes home he wants to take 
some comfort.” 

“Well, this isn’t a bar-room, sir! You 
needn’t be a rowdy in your mother’s parlor.” 

“You didn’t use’ to be so partic’lar, plague 
take your old hop money!” muttered Sim. 

“What would you do without it?” angrily 
retorted his mother. 


102 


THE HOP PICKERS 


^^Come, Aunt Sue,” said the other young 
man, breaking into the quarrel, ^‘trot out your 
fancy ho|p pickers. After all your braggin’ we 
don’t want to see no common trash like you 
had last year.” 

‘‘Hold your tongue. Hi!” said Mrs. Johnson, 
sharply. “Didn’t I tell you they come from 
the top families of Atwood and Minnichute, 
and how under the sun they ever came here I 
can’t imagine. But here they be, and I want 
you two boys to put your best foot foremost, 
too.” 

“Who be they?” asked Sim, rolling his un- 
lighted cigar between his lips. 

“There’s Dr. Becket’s two daughters, Old 
Fay’s girl, and two or three preacher’s families 
besides. So I tell you now, you’d better mind 
your manners and carry yourselves straight.” 

The girls needed a good deal of urging to 
accept Mrs. Johnson’s invitation to go into the 
parlor. “I’d rather stay here and read,” said 
Rhoda, settling comfortably in her seat under 
a tree. 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 103 


‘^I’d rather stay with Rhoda,’’ said May, 
laughing and snuggling up to her. 

“Oh, come, girls I’’ urged Jennie, who was 
Mrs. Johnson’s messenger. “It isn’t polite to 
refuse her invitation. She wants to introduce 
to us her son and nephew who are home from 
Madison to spend Sunday.” 

“The honor of their acquaintance would he 
too overwhelming,” began Rhoda. 

“Oh, never mind them,” interrupted Jennie. 
“They’re probably nobodys. But I’m just 
dying for that piano, and May plays like an 
angel, Minnie says.” 

“Do come. May,” urged some of the other 
girls together. 

“You can’t be so cruel as to refuse,” pleaded 
Jennie, on her knees, and clasping May’s 
hand. 

“If we don’t go in we’ll vex Vinegar-Pot and 
she’ll be as mean as ever to us,” remarked 
Kitty, thinking this argument might do some 
good. 

“Well,” assented May, rising. “There 


104 ,THE HOP PICKERS 

seems no help for it. I suppose I’ll have to 

go.” 

Rhoda was too good-natured to hold out. She 
rose from her seat and they all trooped after 
her to the house. 


CHAPTER X 


WHO STOLE THE DINNER? 

M rs. Johnson made short work of the in- 
troduction. ‘‘Girls, this is my son and 
my nephew,’’ she said, waving her hand in the 
direction of the young men, and then saying 
she must see to dinner, she walked away. Sim 
and Hi rose, made stiff hows right and left, and 
then sat down again, leaving the girls to find 
seats for themselves on the ottomans, chairs 
and sofas about the large room. 

There was an awkward silence for a moment, 
when Rhoda and May, as the eldest of the 
party, began the usual small talk which opens 
conversation between strangers. But their re- 
finement, their low voices, and their self-pos- 
session seemed to make the men more bashful 
than ever, and after the weather was discussed, 
the conversation was reduced to monosyllables 


105 


106 THE HOP PICKERS 

on one side and was fast dying out entirely, 

when some one proposed music. 

Jennie flew from her seat and spasmodically 
dragged May to the piano. This movement 
broke the ice at once, and the giggling which 
commenced ended in a hearty laugh and a sud- 
den flocking round the piano. 

They found a Sunday school song book in a 
pile of music on a table. May played the air 
of a song they all knew, and they began sing- 
ing as loudly and cheerily as possible, when 
they were interrupted by the sound of angry 
voices. 

Sim Johnson and his cousin stepped out 
onto the porch to see what was the trouble and 
the girls heard him say: Hullo, ma, what’s 
up?” 

‘‘Some one has been in the cellar and stolen 
all I had cooked for dinner,” returned his 
angry mother. 

“Whew! that so? What’d ye have?” asked 
Hi, with his hands in his pockets. 

“Two dozen pies, a dozen loaves of bread. 


WHO STOLE THE DINNER? 


107 


a jar of butter, a jar of preserves, besides 
about a peck of cookies and some chickens. It^s 
them Mud Creekites, I expect, and I’ll break 
every bone in their bodies when I catch ’em.” 

Uncle says he hasn’t seen any of ’em 
around this morning,” said the princess. 
‘‘More likely it’s them white-livered town 
girls. They ain’t a bit too good for it, in my 
opinion. ’ ’ 

“That’s false,” cried Jennie, bounding out 
to the porch with a red face. “Mrs. Johnson, 
we haven’t been near your cellar, and it’s mean 
to accuse us of such a thing!” 

“How are you going to prove it. Miss Stuck- 
up?” said the princess spitefully. 

“What grounds have you for suspecting 
us?” retorted Jennie. 

“The things couldn’t go without hands, and 
you were the only ones about the place. I 
guess you wouldn’t like to have your rooms 
searched.” 

“Indeed we would. Mrs. Johnson, please 
come and see for yourself,” and she stalked at 


108 


THE HOP PICKERS 


the head of the procession, the princess at her 
elbow, and half a dozen girls following. 

‘‘What do yon call themT’ said the princess, 
pointing to a pile of pie plates, empty jars, and 
remnants of bread and cookies. 

“It’s a mean trick!” declared Jennie, indig- 
nantly. ‘ ‘ The real thieves have put them 
there, of course, to make you think we took 
them. You don’t suppose we would have 
brought you here if we hadn’t been innocent.” 

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Johnson in a 
hard tone, for she was much irritated. “It 
looks mighty suspicious. Perhaps you can’t 
answer for all your crowd. But you can be 
sure of one thing. You’ll have to go without 
your dinner to-day. You don’t catch me 
cookin’ on Sunday.” 

The girls were too indignant to care for 
that, hungry as they were. They collected in 
their rooms and settled on the beds to hold an 
indignation meeting. 

“It’s an abominable shame!” burst from 
Jennie. 


WHO STOLE THE DINNER? 109 

‘‘But what can we do about itV^ asked 
Rhoda. “The evidence is against us. It’s 
rather ignominious, I must confess.” 

“Mrs. Johnson is not so bright as I thought,” 
remarked May. “If we had stolen the things, 
common-sense ought to teach her that we would 
hide the signs of it.” 

“Perhaps she thought we wouldn’t expect to 
have our rooms searched,” said Nina. 

“At any rate, she thinks we did it,” said 
Minnie, “and I feel as though we had, too. 
I’m ashamed to show my face.” 

“I think she was so mad she was glad to 
blame it onto any one,” remarked Myra. 

“Let’s walk home,” suggested Jessie. 

“No, indeed!” protested Jennie. “I won’t 
run away. I’ll stay and fight it out. I’ll find 
those thieves if it takes till Christmas!” 

Ann Mathers had been sitting silently on her 
bed while the discussion was going on, and 
now she said in her thick, hoarse tones : ‘ ‘ The 
Low Downs were barefooted this morning. 
The sand is always damp round the cellar door 


110 


THE HOP PICKERS 


where they throw water from the wash-bowls. 
Perhaps we can find their tracks still there. 

‘‘Ann Mathers, you are a genius!’^ cried 
Jennie, rushing to the door. “Why haven’t 
we thought of that before? Let’s go now and 
see.” 

The girls were all following her when Rhoda 
suggested that too many feet would be likely 
to trample out the footprints they were so 
anxious to find, so it was decided that Jennie, 
Flora, and Tilly should form a committee to 
investigate the matter. They soon came back, 
very much elated. “Hurrah!” shouted Jen- 
nie. “The battle’s over already.” 

“Did you find them?” asked the waiting 
girls eagerly. 

“Course we did. Big, splay-footed tracks 
all round the cellar door and in the path lead- 
ing to the woods. We got Mrs. Johnson to look 
at them. The hateful princess wouldn’t come. 
She said she didn’t care who took ’em as long 
as they were gone, and some folks were as good 
as other folks in her opinion.” 


WHO STOLE THE DINNER? 


Ill 


‘‘WLat did Mrs. Johnson say?” asked 
Rhoda. 

‘‘Oh, she looked ashamed. But she’s too 
mean to apologize. She only said she ‘knowed 
all the time it was them pesky Mud Creekites 
and Mirandy was a fool.’ ” 

“What makes that beautiful princess so 
hateful to us?” asked May, wonderingly. 

“The poor thing has a hard life and she feels 
bitter toward every one,” said Jennie, who 
could afford to be generous, since she had won 
the victory. 

“I guess she’s got a mean, jealous disposi- 
tion and don’t want to see any one happy,” 
remarked J essie, shaking her wise little 
head. 

“Yes, that’s it,” echoed Tilly, laughing. 
“ ‘Dog in the manger.’ ” 

“ ‘There’s no great loss without some small 
gain, ’ ’ ’ said Lizzie with a sigh of relief, as she 
laid her curly head on a pillow. “We needn’t 
go back to that odious room again.” 

“Odious!” repeated Minnie. “Why, I 


112 


THE HOP PICKERS 


thought it was lovely. I don^t believe there is 
such rich furniture in Minnichute.’^ 

‘ ‘ The furniture is rich enough, but the 
colors! Why, it hurt me actually like a dis- 
cord in music to look at that purple piano 
cover, bright blue carpet, green blinds, and the 
crimson furniture.’’ 

‘‘Well, I didn’t notice the furniture or color- 
ing,” said Jennie, “those gawky, pretentious 
fellows annoyed me so much.” 

“Why, I thought they were splendid!” ex- 
claimed Minnie. “And that one they called 
Hi had an elegant mustache.” 

“ ‘Every one to his fancy and me to my 
Nancy,’ as the old woman said when she kissed 
her cow,” said Jennie, laughing. 

“I’m hungry, and I don’t fancy being cheated 
out of my dinner by those miserable Hotten- 
tots,” cried Fanny Jennings. 

“What mean, sneaking things they must be,” 
added her sister. 

Mrs. Johnson changed her mind about din- 
ner. She flew around, with the grudging help 


WHO STOLE THE DINNER? 


113 


of the princess, to prepare a substitute for the 
lost meal. A half dozen spring chickens met 
a sudden death. Mr. Johnson and the hired 
boy were pressed into service to prepare them 
for cooking, while biscuits and hastily con- 
cocted rice puddings with plenty of raisins were 
hurried into the ovens. 

When the astonished girls walked into the 
dining-room about the middle of the afternoon 
and saw the excellent dinner on the table, they 
forgave the little woman on the spot for her 
unkindness. 

^‘I^m sure this is a handsome apology,’’ said 
Rhoda, smiling as she helped herself to a crisp, 
brown joint of chicken. 

‘‘There are the Low Downs,” said Tilly, 
looking toward the door. 

“I wonder what Mrs. Johnson will say to 
them. I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes, if 
they had any,” remarked Jessie. 

The matter was soon settled. Mrs. J ohnson 
met the crowd at the dining-room door with 
such a black look that the boldest of them 


THE HOP PICKERS 


114 

halted. ‘‘Clear out of here!^^ she cried. 
“IVe got no dinner for thieves! The im- 
pudence of your coming here!’’ she went on, 
her voice growing shriller. “I’ve half a notion 
to send for the sheriff and have you all ar- 
rested. And I will, too, if I catch any of you 
in my cellar again!” 

“Whose been in your suffer,” said one of 
the largest girls. “We don’t know nothin’ 
about it.” 

“That’s a pretty story to tell me, you lying 
sneaks! Go look at your ugly, barefooted 
tracks round the cellar door and don’t come 
here with your brazen faces. Git out, I tell 
you!” she screamed, stepping toward them, 
“and don’t let me see hide or hair of you again 
to-day!” 

The box-tenders with them had turned back 
at first sight of Mrs. Johnson’s face, and now 
the girls followed much more quickly than they 
had come. When the Minnichute party left the 
dining-room they saw a group of the Mud 
Creek girls talking loudly and angrily, with 


WHO STOLE THE DINNER? 115 

many gestures and scowling looks in their 
direction. 

'‘They are mad at us because they got found 
out, and I’m afraid they’ll hurt some of us in 
revenge,” said Kitty. 

' ' Don ’t be a coward, Kit, ’ ’ cried J ennie. "We 
are as many in numbers as they, and I rather 
think we can defend ourselves if it comes to a 
pitched battle.” 

"But perhaps they won’t give us a chance 
for a pitched battle,” remarked Tilly. "They 
are mean enough to do anything, and they will 
fight us as the Indians do, in ambush.” 

"Why, girls, what are you talking about! 
The idea of making plans for a battle is shock- 
ing,” said Rhoda, earnestly. "What have we 
done to make them angry? If we let them alone 
they can’t possibly quarrel with us.” 

"Nevertheless, they mean mischief. I feel 
it in my bones,” said Tilly. 

"Well, we won’t talk about it any more,’^ 
said Rhoda, looking significantly at the round- 


116 THE HOP PICKERS 

eyed youngsters, who were eagerly listening to 

the discussion. 

So the subject was dropped and the girls 
went to their rooms. They spent a quiet Sun- 
day evening, sitting on their beds, wrapped in 
shawls and each other’s arms. They sang such 
hymns as they could remember in subdued 
tones, the moonbeams softening the barrenness 
of their dreary rooms and lighting up their 
fresh and youthful faces. No sound could be 
heard on the premises until the roll of wheels 
told them that the young men of the house were 
going away, and soon after, they knew by the 
usual patter of bare feet on the stairs and the 
usual racket overhead, that their mischievous 
neighbors were going to bed. 

So, concluding that all danger for them was 
over for the present, at least, they were soon 
quietly sleeping away their first Sunday night 
as hop pickers. Their dreams would have been 
less peaceful if they had known that a regular 
assault upon them had been planned by the 
“Low Downs,” and would have been carried 


WHO STOLE THE DINNER? 117 
out with more or less effect if John had not 
interfered. He had been gone all day on a 
visit to his home, a dozen miles away, and 
only returned in time to prevent the mischief. 
He never told the Minnichute girls that he had 
fought and whipped Simmons, the only box- 
tender mean enough to enter into the plot, that 
he had threatened to inform the Johnsons and 
have all the ‘‘Low Downs’’ dismissed in the 
morning, or that he had stayed all night in the 
little sitting room to guard their door against 
surprise. 

They only knew the next day that he was 
rather silent and sleepy, and he got many scold- 
ings for his slowness from his tyrants, the small 
girls. 


CHAPTEE XI 


THE SHINDIG 

IRLS, there’s going to be a shindig to- 



VJT morrow evening at Powell’s, about a 
mile from here, so John says. Let’s go.” 

‘‘What’s a shindig?” asked Ann, slowly un- 
lacing her shoes. The girls were going to bed 
when Jennie made this announcement. 

“Ann Mathers! have you been a hop picker 
for two mortal weeks and don’t know what a 
shindig is ? ” 

“No, I don’t, so please tell me.” 

“A hop pickers’ ball, of course. John says 
they come every Saturday night, and sometimes 
oftener. Every hop yard in a neighborhood is 
expected to have one and get up a fine supper, 
at least once during the season. He says they 
have lively times, and sometimes they break up 
in a row.” 


118 


THE SHINDIG 


119 


‘‘We don’t want to go to anything of that 
kind, of course. Don’t think of it, dear,” said 
Rhoda, anxiously. 

“Oh, Rhoda, do let us go!” begged Jennie. 
“You know, John is a kind of guardian angel 
for us. He’ll take us over safely and back 
again. He says if we don’t like it we can leave 
at any time. This hop region is a little world 
by itself, and a shindig is one of its peculiar 
features. I’m so curious to see one.” 

“Well,” said Rhoda, “I suppose John 
wouldn’t ask you to go if it wasn’t all right, 
and I don’t suppose it would do you any harm 
to look on for a little while. But do be care- 
ful and quiet, dear, and don’t stay very late.” 

So it was arranged, and the next evening ten 
of the Minnichutes started out with John for 
the Powell hop yard. Jennie had not been able 
to induce Rhoda to go, and it had been thought 
best to keep the younger ones in ignorance of 
the expedition. So when they were in bed and 
asleep, the three Jennings, Jennie, Flora, Min- 
nie, Nina, Ada, and the two Beckets arrayed 


120 


THE HOP PICKERS 


themselves as festively as possible, with old- 
fashioned flowers from the garden on their 
heads and at their throats. John knocked at 
their door at half -past seven and they started 
off with him in high spirits, while Rhoda, Nelly 
and Ann settled on Rhoda ’s bed for a quiet chat. 

John and his party found a small house, 
lighted at every window, and heard the sound 
of squeaking fiddles and dancing feet. 

‘‘TheyVe begun, that’s a fact,” said John. 
‘‘I thought we’d be early. Well, you’ll git 
enough of it, I reckon.” 

He knocked at the front door, and was in- 
vited in by their host, whom the girls thought 
the tallest man they had ever seen, with the most 
sheepish expression. ‘‘The dancin’ is in the 
eatin’ house,” he said with a grin, as they all 
stood silently waiting his movements. 

“Come on, girls!” said John, who evidently 
thought this all the invitation necessary to join 
in the festivities, and they passed through the 
house and entered a long, low shanty like the 
Johnsons’ dining room. 


THE SHINDIG 


121 


The long tables were shoved against the wall, 
there they were used as seats by those who 
could not by any possibility squeeze into some 
‘‘figure’^ on the floor. It was in the days when 
‘‘round dancing’^ formed only part of the pro- 
gram. Four quadrilles were dancing with 
“might and main’’ to the music of three fiddles 
and one bass viol, while the Johnsons’ “boss,” 
with red face and streaming forehead, stood 
upon a chair in one corner of the room and 
“called olf” in a loud roar which could be dis- 
tinctly heard above the noisy din made by the 
dancing feet, the scuffling on the tables, and the 
laughing and talking everywhere. 

The girls stood and watched the scene, con- 
fused by the sounds, and the wild whirl of the 
dancers as they brushed rudely against them 
in their vigorous response to ^^All hands 
round,” promenade,” balance all,” 

swing yer pardners.” When the cotillion was 
over there was a rush and tumult greater than 
ever, for those who had just left the floor were 
scrambling for good seats on the tables, and 


122 


THE HOP PICKERS 


those who wished to find places on the floor 
were crowding and pushing, for only the quick- 
est and strongest couples had a chance to dance, 
and there was a good deal of quarreling for the 
best places. 

The boss was flying round in great excite- 
ment, settling disputes and sending off disap- 
pointed couples, grumbling because they had 
lost their chance to dance and also their seats 
on the tables. 

‘‘IsnT it dreadful!^’ cried May, in disgust. 

Let’s go home.” 

‘‘Oh, not just yet,” said Jennie, who fancied 
John would be rather disappointed to leave so 
soon. 

Just then he came up to say that he had seats 
for them where the air was better, and they 
could slip away easily when they were ready 
to leave. And leading the way, he pushed 
through the crowd, making a path for them. 
When they reached the door they found a long 
wash bench guarded by two Johnson box-ten- 
ders, who had some trouble in holding it. 


THE SHINDIG 


123 


^‘Here you be,’’ said John, cheerfully. ‘‘I 
found this bench out by the kitchen door and 
cabbaged it. It ain’t very nice, but it’ll be 
better than standin’.” 

The girls were very tired of the standing and 
the jostling, and were very glad of the bench. 
While they were enjoying the comparative quiet 
and the fresh air, their Sunday acquaintances, 
Sim Johnson and his cousin, Hi, suddenly ap- 
peared before them. The girls had agreed to 
accept no invitations to dance, but Nina and 
Minnie walked otf with the young men to 
scramble for places on the floor, ignoring the 
efforts of Jennie and Flora to hinder them. 

“Don’t you see they have been drinking?” 
urged Jennie. 

“I don’t care,” returned Minnie, excitedly. 
“I must dance just once.” 

She soon came back, crying like a hurt child, 
and thoroughly frightened and subdued. Her 
hair was hanging about her face, her dress was 
torn, and in the surging crowd she had lost her 
partner, who had not been able to protect her. 


124j 


THE HOP PICKERS 


Nina worked lier way back to the bench very 
soon. She also had not been able to dance, and 
was quite willing to give up the attempt. The 
girls pinned together the rents in Minnie ’s gown, 
loaned her hair pins, and soothed her sobs. 

‘‘I wonder where John is,’’ said Jennie. 
‘‘The sooner we get away from here the bet- 
ter.” 

But John was not to be seen, and the girls 
concluded to wait a few minutes longer when 
a rush toward the door attracted their atten- 
tion. Before they had time to be alarmed John 
came to them and said the crowd was going to 
the hop house to see the boss dance a jig while 
the tables were set for supper. He had prom- 
ised to help Mrs. Powell, and after that would 
be ready to go home with them. 

The girls were quite ready to wait for h im 
as it was not late, and watched him help Mr. 
and Mrs. Powell draw the long tables to the 
middle of the floor. A dozen pairs of hands 
brought in the table cloths, the dishes and the 
food, and supper was called in a very short 


THE SHINDIG 


125 


time. Mrs. Powell was a pale, careworn woman 
who anxiously superintended everything, and 
turned gratefully to John, who had been fly- 
ing around, placing chairs and benches, attend- 
ing to the lights, and bringing in heavy trays of 
coffee, when he came to ask her if he should call 
the company. 

They came with the same rush and scramble 
for places that there had been during the danc- 
ing, but as there was plenty of room for every 
one at the four long tables they were soon all 
seated and eating contentedly. It was a very 
bountiful meal. The dozen waiters were kept 
busy running back and forth with fresh cups 
of coffee, platters of cold ham and chicken, and 
hot biscuit. The plates and cups of those who 
finished first were at once taken away, so that 
the tables were almost cleared by the time the 
slower ones were through. They were moved 
to the wall by many willing hands, and the floor 
was cleared for dancing. 

‘‘Choose yer pardners for a waltz cried 
the boss. 


126 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘Hold on, Bill, let’s have a jig first,” called 
some one. ^‘It’s too soon after supper for the 
whirlygigs. ’ ’ 

There was a general clapping of hands, and 
cries for Jack Munson. Several of the men 
caught the unwilling John and dragged him 
into the middle of the floor, while others pulled 
off his coat and shoes. 

^‘Oh, git out, boys! I can’t dance to-night,” 
said John, trying to break away. 

‘^He’s afraid his ^ Stuck Ups’ won’t like it,” 
said Nance Carter, sneeringly. 

^‘He ain’t nuther,” angrily retorted one of 
John’s friends. ‘‘You shut up your ugly jaw!” 

Nance began an angry reply, but John good- 
naturedly stopped them both by agreeing to 
dance, if they would fall back and leave him 
room. 

When he was ready he motioned to the 
fiddlers, who began to play a lively jig, and 
John, in his stockinged feet and shirt-sleeves, 
commenced to dance. He was a slim, well-made 
fellow, and as his lithe legs and nimble feet 


THE SHINDIG 127 

flew through the steps of an Irish jig his audi- 
ence was very much delighted, and beat time 
rhythmically with clapping hands and stamp- 
ing feet. 

He danced a long time, as though he were 
wound up and couldn’t stop. The people about 
him began to cheer wildly as they clapped and 
the Minnichute girls were wondering at his en- 
durance, when suddenly, after a fantastic pig- 
eon-wing” he stopped and fell to the floor, his 
hand on his side and breathing heavily. 

The girls were much frightened until the 
crowd around them parted and two men brought 
him on their shoulders to the bench. was 
afraid you’d be scared,” he said, ‘‘so I made 
’em bring me here. I’m all right now. It was 
only a stitch in my side that catches me some- 
times. I hadn’t ought to kep it up so long.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad it is nothing more serious,” 
said Jennie. “But are you sure you are over 
it?” 

“Well, it hangs on a little yet, but it’ll soon 
be gone, I reckon. You ought to be goin’ 


128 


THE HOP PICKERS 


home/' he continued anxiously. ‘‘I don't think 
you want to see the round dancin'." 

‘‘Oh, don't worry about us," urged one of the 
girls. “You are not fit to walk home now, and 
we won't mind going alone." 

“You mustn't do that," said John, emphati- 
cally. ‘ ‘ Tain 't safe. ' ' 

“Why, who would hurt usf " cried Jennie. 

“There are no highway robbers about, are 
there?" asked Tilly. 

“No, but there's wild cats," said John, look- 
ing significantly at Nance Carter, who was 
scowling at them from her seat on a table. 

“Oh, I understand," said Flora, “and I'm 
afraid of wild cats." 

“I'm not ! ' ' exclaimed J ennie. 

“Nor I," echoed Tilly. 

“Well, I'm thinkin' you wouldn't like to be 
scratched by 'em more than once," said John. 
“You just wait here a minute till I git back," 
and walking slowly away, he was lost in the 
crowd. 

The dancing was becoming more and more 


THE SHINDIG 


129 


boisterous and some of the girls were grow- 
ing nervous, when some one saw him near the 
door beckoning them to follow him, and going 
out, they found a wagon arranged with seats 
like the one they had come to Johnson’s in. 

^‘Oh, John, we’re making you so much 
trouble!” exclaimed some one. 

‘‘No, you ain’t. Not a bit of it. I want to 
ride myself. Mis’ Powell says we can have 
this team and welcome. So git right in.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE STRIKE 

O NE morning wlien the Minnichutes were 
working quietly at their boxes, they had 
a call from a delegation of ^‘Low Downs/’ 
Since the cellar affair these girls had been as 
disagreeable as possible, crowding and pushing 
in the dining room when there was an oppor- 
tunity, shouting insulting words in the hop 
yard whenever they were near enough to be 
heard, and often sending impudent messages to 
different ones in the Minnichute party. The 
latter felt safe under John’s protection, and 
never replied in any way to words and mes- 
sages. But they were somewhat startled when 
the ‘‘Low Downs” came upon them so sud- 
denly, and felt sure they meant to insist upon 
a quarrel. 

But to their relief, Nance Carter, who seemed 

130 


THE STRIKE 


131 


to be their leader, appeared quite amiable when 
she spoke to the girls at Rhoda’s stand. 
‘‘How’s you’uns gittin’ along?” she said, pull- 
ing a spray from Rhoda’s pole and throwing a 
handful of hops in her box. 

“Oh, we’re doing nicely,” returned Rhoda, 
pleasantly. 

“Hops is good this year,” continued Nance, 
after a pause. “Lot’s better ’n they was last, 
and old Johnson’s got the best yard round here. 
Folks says he’s gittin’ rich. He’s got a heap 
o’ money in the bank.” 

‘ ‘ Indeed ! ’ ’ answered Rhoda. “I’m surprised 
at that, for he and his wife work as hard as 
though they had to.” 

“That’s ’cause Mis’ Johnson she wants to 
git all the money she can to ‘cut a swath’ with. 
They always beat down the price for pickin’, 
and she wants to skinch their ‘hands’ just for 
meanness. But they ain’t the only ones that’s 
tryin’ to git ahead of the pickers. They say 
over to Mosher’s that the hop growers round 
here have bargained to sell their hops for sixty 


132 


THE HOP PICKERS 


and seventy cents a pound, and they only pay 
their pickers fifty cents a box, and the pickers 
ain’t a-goin’ to stand it. They was over here 
last night to git us into a big strike to-morrow, 
and they wanted me to ask you to jine in,” said 
Nance, coming at last to the object of her visit. 

‘‘A strike!” exclaimed Rhoda. ‘‘Why, girls 
can’t have strikes!” 

“Yes, they can,” replied Nance excitedly. 
“They had one two years ago over in Powell’s 
neighborhood, and made the hop growers toe 
the mark, I can tell you. They had it just in 
the height of the season when the hops was all 
ripe and had to be picked right away. 
Everybody quit work till the growers agreed 
to raise the price for pickin’. ’Course they 
couldn’t git nobody else on such a short notice 
and every day was worth hundreds of dollars 
to ’em, so they gave in to onct and that was 
the end of it.” 

“But we made a regular bargain to pick for 
fifty cents a box,” said Rhoda. “It seems to 
me we are bound to stick to our agreement. I 


THE STRIKE 133 

don’t see what excuse we can have for a strike.” 

^‘It don’t make no difference what you 
think,” said Nance impatiently. ‘^It’s alius 
understood that pickers is to have for a box 
what a pound of hops brings in the market, and 
they ain’t agoin’ to have their rights trampled 
on by no rich folks, neither.” 

‘^Well,” answered Rhoda, quietly, don’t 

think any of our party wish to join in anything 
of the kind. We are well treated and paid a 
good price for our work, and it would not be 
right to ask for more.” 

‘‘Oh, ho! Miss Stuck-up!” cried Nance, with 
a red face and trembling with anger. “I s’pose 
you think it’s fine to he puttin’ on lady airs and 
lordin’ round over other folks.” 

“What do you mean?” cried Jennie, angrily. 
She had just come to her sister’s box to learn 
what was going on, and only heard Nance’s last 
sentence. 

“Don’t say anything, dear,” urged Rhoda, 
drawing Jennie one side to tell her the cause of 
the disturbance. 


134 ^ 


THE HOP PICKERS 


The ragged girls who had come with Nance 
here joined her in lond abuse of the whole Min- 
nichute party, but as they were not answered, 
they finally withdrew, railing as they went, 
while the other party clustered together, talk- 
ing in indignant or frightened tones. 

‘‘Let’s tell Mrs. Johnson!” exclaimed Eatty. 

“No, dear, I wouldn’t,” said Rhoda. “I’m 
sure it would do no good and would only get 
us into trouble. We would better go on quietly 
with our work as though nothing had hap- 
pened.” 

“Well, now, what shall we do if they come 
and make us stop work? That’s the way they 
do in regular strikes, isn’t it?” asked Tilly. 

“Well, if they do that we’ll have to stop,” 
agreed Rhoda. 

“But Rhoda,” exclaimed Jennie, excitedly, 
“it seems to me that would be cowardly. I 
don’t propose to have a lot of barbarians tell 
me what to do. If it’s right for us to pick hops 
I’m going to pick, and fight ’em if they try to 
interfere.” 


THE STRIKE 


135 


^‘Oh, Jennie! It^s dreadful to hear you talk 
so. We can’t fight. It wouldn’t be doing wrong 
for us to stop work. If they insist upon it we’d 
better go to our rooms quietly and stay till the 
storm blows over.” 

‘‘But don’t you see, they won’t let us go to 
work again unless they win the day.” 

“Well, we’ll see,” said Rhoda. “We needn’t 
worry now, at any rate, but act according to 
circumstances when the time comes.” 

That night the “Low Downs” seemed more 
noisy than ever. The Minnichute girls could 
hear them talking loudly and moving about until 
a late hour. Nelly and Myra fastened the win- 
dows securely with nails they had found in the 
hop house, and straw beds were placed before 
the doors to prevent an invasion, which they 
had good reason to fear from the threats which 
had been heard in the afternoon. 

But morning came and all was quiet. Few 
of the Minnichutes had slept well, and they felt 
rather tired and languid as they dressed by 
the feeble light of the candle. 


136 THE HOP PICKERS 

At breakfast the ‘‘Low Downs’’ appeared 
as usual and the Minnichutes, concluding that 
the trouble was over, went to their places in the 
hop yard as usual. There they found the “Low 
Downs” and several box-tenders standing 
near their boxes in a way to prevent their 
reaching them, without pushing through the 
crowd. 

“What shall we do?” cried Minnie, in alarm, 
returned Tilly. “I say we’d better 
get Mrs. Johnson to call the sheriff.” 

Nance Carter heard the word, sheriff, and 
saw Tilly’s threatening gesture, and saying 
something in an undertone to the girls about 
her, started as though to attack the Minnichutes. 
But the box-tenders interfered and held them 
back, while John hurried up to the Minnichutes 
and, with real anxiety, begged them to go to 
their rooms. 

“Them pesky hornets mean mischief, and no 
mistake,” he said. “They’re awful mad at you 
because you wouldn’t jine ’em, so I’d git out o’ 
their way for a spell.” 


THE STRIKE 


137 


The girls needed no second warning. They 
turned and walked rapidly back to the house, 
the younger ones crying and urging the others 
to run. But Rhoda would not allow that. ‘‘We 
mustn’t let them see we are afraid,” she said. 
“The box-tenders won’t allow them to hurt us. 
Just keep quiet and cool, and everything will 
come out all right.” 

When they reached the house, Mrs. Johnson 
came to the door in great surprise, to see what 
was the matter. When the girls told her all 
they knew of the affair, her face flushed, but 
she only said, grimly: “Let ’em come on. I 
ain’t afraid of ’em. Huldy!” she called to the 
little scullion who spent her life in washing 
dishes and paring potatoes, “you go to the hop 
house and tell Johnson to come here.” 

The obedient Huldy started off on a run, and 
the Minnichutes went to their rooms to wait 
for the battle with fear and trembling. 

“Rhoda,” said Jennie, after a moment of 
silence, “I’m going to the kitchen to stay with 
Mrs. Johnson. I don’t believe that cowardly 


138 


THE HOP PICKERS 


husband will help her, and it isn’t right to leave 
her alone. Who’ll go with me?” 

Four of the girls plucked up courage to join 
her, and though Rhoda thought it hardly wise, 
they started off with many entreaties from the 
others to be quiet and careful. They found 
Mrs. Johnson as composed as usual. She was 
putting pies into a large, brick oven, and seemed 
rather annoyed by the entrance of the girls, 
telling them they would better go back to their 
rooms. They couldn’t help her and would 
probably be in her way. 

But they begged her to let them stay, telling 
her they might be of some use, and they cer- 
tainly wouldn’t trouble her. 

They were interrupted by the sound of many 
voices, and looking through the open door be- 
hind them, they saw a crowd of fifty or more 
pickers and box-tenders coming toward the 
house. Most of the ‘‘Low Downs” were there, 
and a number from other yards. 

Mrs. Johnson went to the door as the crowd 
came near. “What are you here for?” she 


THE STRIKE 


139 


demanded, as the nearest girls stood before her. 

‘‘Your pickers want better pay, and you’ll 
git no more pickin’ done till you agree to it,” 
said the leader. 

Mrs. Johnson’s broad shoulders and arms 
akimbo filled up the doorway, hiding the girls 
behind her, as she said, coolly: “Well, you’ve 
come to the wrong place with yer threats. Our 
pickers won’t get but fifty cents a box, and if 
they don’t like that they may leave as soon as 
they please.” 

This prompt and decisive statement rather 
staggered the leader. She fell back for consul- 
tation, but in an instant she returned and said 
in a threatening manner: “Well, ye needn’t 
to expect to git yer old hops picked. We won’t 
allow that. They’ll rot on the vines. Ye can 
bet on that. ’ ’ 

“Ye needn’t to worry about our hops. We 
can tend to our own business,” and then, sud- 
denly losing her calmness, she ordered them 
off in a shrill voice, adding, “And if my pickers 
ain’t to work in five minutes they’ll be dis- 


140 


THE HOP PICKERS 


missed, and they won’t get no dinner, either.” 

As the Johnson pickers were a good many 
miles from home this threat was a serious one, 
and an angry buzz arose from the crowd. 
There were so many of them, and the belief that 
the prospect of loss would make Mrs. Johnson 
come to their terms, as the other hop growers 
had done,’ had been so strong, that they were 
astonished at her prompt attitude of defiance 
and entirely at a loss as to what to do next. 

Suddenly some one threw a lump of soft earth 
directly at Mrs. Johnson, hitting her on her 
cheek. She was furious with anger, and, darting 
into the kitchen, seized a large poker which she 
had been heating red hot in the glowing coals 
and made a rush for the throng. They took to 
their heels in a wild panic, shouting, swearing 
and tumbling over each other, and finally dis- 
appeared in the hop yard. The onslaught of 
the little woman with her dangerous weapon 
had been so sudden and furious that the strikers 
looked upon her as something superhuman. 
They were completely overwhelmed and routed, 


THE STRIKE U1 

and nothing would induce them to return to the 
charge, although Nance Carter taunted the box- 
tenders with cowardice and tried to make them 
rally for another attack. 

It was useless. They slipped away in groups 
of twos and threes until only Nance Carter and 
a few of her sort were left. They soon saw 
that they could do nothing more and walked 
away very much chagrined. The strike was 
over and the strikers vanquished. 

John went to the house and told the Minni- 
chutes they might now return to the hop yard in 
safety. The beautiful Miranda unlocked her 
door and came out to help prepare the dinner 
under the direction of Mrs. Johnson, who moved 
about, pale and composed, but perfectly con- 
scious of being mistress of the situation. Mr. 
Johnson cautiously peeped out of the hop house 
loft to see that the coast was clear and then 
came down to unlock the door. The Minne- 
chute girls filed off to the hop yard and every 
one felt relieved that ‘‘War^s alarms’’ were 


over. 


CHAPTER Xin 


THE RESCUE 

T he Jolmson farm was perhaps a quarter 
of a mile from a beautiful stream large 
enough to be called a river. The water was 
clear, and in one place there was a sandy bot- 
tom and shelving beach, which made a capita] 
spot for swimming and bathing. It was well 
understood in the neighborhood that this place 
was for the use of women and girls only. Men 
had a ‘^swimming hole” further down the 
stream where the banks were steeper and the 
water more swift. 

A grove of tall pines grew between the John- 
son place and the river and in these shaded 
woods the Minnechute girls were fond of walk- 
ing on Sunday afternoons and other holi- 
days. 

One day about three o’clock the boss walked 

142 


THE RESCUE 


143 


about the yard telling every one to knock off.’’ 
The kilns could not take any more bops. So 
Rboda and her sisters with a number of other 
girls quickly disposed of their sunbonnets, 
aprons and gloves, and started for a stroll in 
their favorite haunt. They were chatting and 
laughing as they walked about, arm and arm in 
the quiet warm air, when some one proposed 
that they should go to the swimming pool to 
see what was going on there. It was not far 
away. They could hear laughter and shouting 
and the splashing of water. The Low Downs 
were evidently enjoying a bath. The Minne- 
chute party had never visited the pool as they 
felt sure they would not be welcomed by their 
hostile neighbors, who seemed to have appropri- 
ated it. But most of the village girls were fond 
of the water. Some of them could swim. Jen- 
nie especially had the reputation of swimming 
‘‘like a duck.” The temptation was strong to- 
day to “Just go and have a look at the place,” 
as Tilly said. 

“But John isn’t here to defend us if the Low 


144 THE HOP PICKERS 

Downs pitch into ns,’’ said the timid little Hat- 
tie. 

‘‘Oh, come on!” said Jennie. “I’m not 
afraid. We’ll just look at the pool a few min- 
utes and then walk on. They wouldn’t dare 
touch us.” 

Rhoda hesitated, but as all the girls urged 
her to go with them, she yielded, and they found 
themselves in a few moments on the banks of the 
river watching a gay scene. Before them on the 
opposite side of the stream tall perpendicular 
bluffs rose straight from the water’s edge. Be- 
hind them were the dark pines. The pool was 
very secluded, seeming to be guarded on all 
sides by steep walls. A dozen or more bare- 
armed, bare-legged girls were wading and swim- 
ming about in the water. They were dressed 
in short cotton gowns of many colors, and none 
of them wore stockings. Some had straggling 
wet locks hanging about their faces while the 
heads of others were covered with towels or 
large red handkerchiefs, to keep the hair dry. 

On the bank were seated, and moving about, 


THE RESCUE 


145 


another dozen women and girls, some of them 
dressed to go in the water or entering little 
dressing tents made by tying sheets to hashes, 
where they took off their wet bathing suits, 
which they afterward hung to dry on a clothes- 
line stretched between two trees. 

The hazy September sun looked down on the 
bright-moving mass of color, making a charm- 
ing picture. Jennie was quite carried away by 
it. ^‘Oh, how lovely!’’ she cried. “And how 
perfectly grand it must be to be in there. I wish 
I had a bathing suit. I’d love to dive from that 
pier. They say the water is eight feet deep 
there.” 

“Why, where did you learn to dive,” cried 
Tilly. “I never heard of a girl doing that. I 
thought it was only a boy’s trick.” 

“Uncle Dick taught Rhoda and me to swim 
and me to dive one summer when we visited him. 
He lives on the shore of Lake Michigan. He’s 
an old sailor, you know.” 

“Wish I had an Uncle Dick,” remarked Tilly 
rather enviously. 


146 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘ ‘ The water must be rather cold in spite of the 
warm air,’’ remarked Rhoda. ‘‘They say it 
comes from springs.” 

“You would think it was cold to look at those 
girls!” said Tilly, laughing and pointing to- 
ward a couple who had just entered the stream 
and who stood shivering, with their teeth chat- 
tering, although the water reached only to their 
ankles. 

“That’s no way to do,” said Jennie impa- 
tiently. ‘ ‘ They’d warm up in a minute if they’d 
plunge right in and swim out like those girls at 
the pier. They’re having a splendid time.” 

The pier was a very narrow one, built of 
rough boards and extending perhaps ten feet 
into the stream. At the end of it were fas- 
tened two boats, around which a number of long- 
haired mermaids were swimming, clutching at 
each other and shouting and laughing wildly. 
The party on the bank which had been so gay 
and lively when the Minnechute girls arrived 
were now gathered in groups, whispering, and 


THE RESCUE 147 

nodding and sending scowling looks toward the 
newcomers. 

‘‘The water isn’t the only cold thing here,” 
remarked Myra, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Everybody seems to hate us wherever we 
go. I don’t see what we’ve done,” said Jessie 
plaintively. 

“Never mind. We won’t stay long,” said 
Rhoda, with her hand on the little girl’s shoul- 
der. 

‘ ‘ The Low Downs are at the bottom of this, I 
suspect, ’ ’ said Flora. 

“There’s no- sense in their acting so,” re- 
marked Jennie decidedly. 

“I’m going to see if I can’t break the ice a 
little.” 

She walked out toward the pier with her hands 
in the pockets of her jacket, and called out cheer- 
ily. “Girls, why don’t you dive from the 
pier?” 

“We ain’t boys and we ain’t ducks,” cried 
one of the swimmers. 


148 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘^This is good enough for us,’’ said another. 

‘‘But you don’t know what fun it is! Ever 
so much better than swimming,” protested Jen- 
nie. 

“If yer so smart why don’t ye come on and 
do it yerself,” replied a mocking voice. 

There was a general laugh, and Jennie said in 
a chafed tone, “How can I take a dare like that, 
Rhoda?” 

But in an instant, before her sister could re- 
ply, she saw that she must take the dare at once, 
not to show what she could do, but to try to 
save a life. Before she had finished speaking, 
she had seen one of the swimmers throw up her 
arms as she gave a loud cry, and then sink in- 
stantly out of sight. “Cramps!” cried Jennie 
tearing off her jacket, and beginning to unlace 
her shoes. 

“What are you going to do,” cried Flora in 
consternation. 

“Going to dive for her, of course! Stand 
out of my way!” she shouted as shoes and gar- 
ments flew in all directions. 


THE RESCUE 


149 


‘‘Oh, Rhoda, do you think she ought toU^ 
asked Kitty, sobbing and throwing her arms 
around her older sister. 

“Yes, of course,’’ cried Rhoda pushing the 
child away. “Don’t he a coward, dear. Help, 
don’t hinder,” and running to the clothes line 
she took it down in a twinkling, letting the 
clothes drop to the ground, and while she 
quickly and deftly wound the rope into a coil 
and slung it over her arm she gave orders in 
loud ringing tones which could be heard above 
the din and confusion about her. The swimmers 
had all come to the shore and stood huddled to- 
gether with scared faces. Some of them were 
crying hysterically, others fainted, they were 
all talking together, but no one had a sugges- 
tion to make ; every one was in a panic. 

“Who can row a boat?” demanded Rhoda, 
turning to her party. 

“I can,” and “I,” answered May and Tilly. 

“You two run out on the pier and unloose one 
of the boats. Ann, please take the little girls 
home. Flora, you’re a fast runner, get some 


150 THE HOP PICKERS 

one here with a doctor as soon as you can. 
Everybody stop crying! Keep still! com- 
manded Rhoda loudly, her arm raised high in 
the air. ^ ^ This girl will be saved if we can get 
her on land in time,’^ she went on. ‘‘You must 
all be quiet now, and keep your wits about you 
so that you will be ready to help.’’ 

It did not seem possible to the amazed Minne- 
chute party that this tall, alert figure, with the 
blazing eyes, was their gentle quiet Rhoda. 
The terrified crowds were silent at once as 
though a spell had been put upon them and 
turned eager and expectant faces toward Rhoda^ 
who continued with her air of a general. 

“You’re from Powells’, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” replied all of them at once. 

‘ ‘ Some of you, the fastest runners must go to 
the house and give the alarm. Tell Mr. Powell 
to come with a wagon and bring blankets, cam- 
phor, brandy, hot water in bottles, and a barrel. 
Don’t forget any of them, and hurry!” 

The last order was given over her shoulder, 
for she was now running down the shaky pier. 


THE RESCUE 


151 


close behind came Jennie who was stripped to 
her underclothing and stockings. 

The sisters made a hasty agreement that Jen- 
nie should dive from the boat, as near as pos- 
sible to the spot where they had seen the un- 
fortunate girl go under the water. 

May and Tilly had flown down the pier at 
Rhoda’s command and had been trying to loosen 
one boat from its moorings. No one knew any- 
thing about a key, to unlock the rusty padlock, 
and the girls soon decided that they must try 
to pull up the staple which held the chain and 
which was fastened securely to the plank. For- 
tunately for them the wood of the pier was old 
and decaying so there seemed some hope of get- 
ting the staple loose. It had begun to give with 
repeated wrenchings. Tilly pulled wildly at the 
obstinate chain. Her hands were blistered and 
bleeding, but she was too excited to think of 
that. May had also pulled with all her might 
with her hands wrapped in a handkerchief. 
The end of the pier was now filled with the 
excited Powell pickers, who looked helplessly 


152 


THE HOP PICKERS 


at the rusty chain which refused to budge in 
spite of the frantic efforts of the girls. Their 
united strength was not enough. The staple 
still held fast. 

‘‘Why don’t some of you mutton heads come 
and help us !” cried Tilly, angrily. “Don’t you 
see we’ve got to yank the thing out? We two 
can’t do it alone. I should think you might do 
that much.” 

Three or four of the girls sprang forward at 
her words, and by one vigorous pull, all to- 
gether, loosened the staple and the boat was 
free. It was done so quickly that Tilly had 
no time to brace herself and fell over backward 
into the water. She was a good swimmer and 
very quick in her movements, and in an instant 
had clambered into the boat. Rhoda had 
jumped into it the moment she reached it, and 
while the staple had been pulled out, she had 
fitted the oars to their sockets, so that there was 
no further time lost. May took one oar, and 
Tilly the other, Rhoda sat in the stem, and they 
pulled quickly out to Jennie, who was swimming 


THE RESCUE 


153 


about ‘‘to get limbered up/’ sbe said. “If any 
of you can handle oars come with tbe 
other boat, and bring along one or two sheets,” 
called Rhoda to the girls left behind. 

They were glad to be of some use, and were 
soon on the water with the second boat, two 
big strong girls at the oars, and a third in the 
stern. As they came up to Rhoda she told them 
to hold her boat steady, as Jennie was getting 
ready to dive from the bow. 

They were now, at least a hundred feet from 
the shore, where the water was quite deep and 
the current strong so that the boats were pad- 
died round in circles to keep them from drifting 
down stream. 

The first attempts of the young diver were 
not successful. She explored the bottom of the 
river again and again each time coming up 
choking and breathless, but was soon able to 
make another plunge. When this had been re- 
peated until they were sure they would not 
find the body where it had sunk, they concluded 
too look for it further down the stream, guess- 


154 


THE HOP PICKERS 


ing that the current had carried it along. This 
surmise proved to be true, for at last J ennie rose 
to the surface exclaiming: ‘‘IVe found her. 
She^s lying almost under the boats!’’ 

‘‘How are you going to get her up?” asked 
Tilly breathlessly. 

“I could bring her to the surface easily if I 
wasn’t so tired,” said Jennie panting heavily. 

“I was afraid of that,” said Rhoda quietly as 
she began to tear a sheet into halves. “You 
mustn’t do more than hold on to her clothing 
while we pull you up,” she went on to her sister, 
while she fastened one-half of the sheet firmly 
round her waist. She then tied the clothes 
line to this band in the back, and the brave 
young rescuer sprang into the water again, the 
rope in the hands of the others paying out rap- 
idly as she sank. The water was deep. They 
were beginning to fear that the line would not 
prove long enough, when at last they felt the 
jerk which told them it was time to pull in. This 
was an easy task, as yard after yard of the wet 
rope was hauled quickly into the boat, until the 


THE RESCUE 


155 


two heads appeared above the water. For an 
instant Rhoda was dismayed. How were they 
to lift that great nnconscions body into the boat 
without over turning it. But the Powell pickers 
were now very alert and were as strong as men. 
Some of them held on to the side of the first 
boat to steady it, while others caught hold of 
the drowning girl by her hair and clothing, and 
succeeded in lifting her great form into the first 
boat, while Rhoda, May and Tilly, helped the 
exhausted Jennie into the other one and all were 
rowed swiftly to land. Mr. Johnson had just 
come with a carriage and two box-tenders, and 
by the time the landing was made, the Powell 
horses came galloping up with a wagon filled 
with men and women, bringing the supplies 
Rhoda ’s forethought had provided. Mr. John- 
son reported that he had sent a man on a swift 
horse for the only doctor within reach. He 
might not be able to get there within an hour 
and the question arose at once ‘‘what shall we 
do for the drowning girl, and who will take 
charge of the caseP’ The girl had been in the 


156 


THE HOP PICKERS 


water at least twenty minutes and if she was to 
be saved not an instant was to be lost. Rhoda 
looked about and, seeing everybody hesitate, 
she said at once: ‘‘IVe seen my uncle bring 
back life to a drowning person. I’m willing to 
try.” 

‘‘Yes, you’re the one. Go ahead. I bet you 
can save her if any body can, ’ ’ came in a chorus 
from the Powell pickers. 

“Well then, two of the strongest young men 
come and help me lift her over this barrel,” said 
Rhoda. “Everybody else stand back and keep 
still. Let the men be ready to take the place 
of the first two when they get tired.” 

Her calmness and air of confidence' made them 
all believe in her, and hasten to obey her orders. 
“Some one take Jennie, May and Tilly home, 
and get them in dry clothes,” she directed, and 
then told the men how to roll the barrel vigor- 
ously to expel the water from the lungs of the 
girl who was placed face down upon it. The 
patient was then laid upon the ground and the 
process of artificial respiration begun. She was 


THE RESCUE 


157 


a large vigorous young woman with big strong 
lungs, and yet she did not, for a long time, re- 
spond to the treatment. The men ‘Hook 
turns’’ and all worked faithfully, lifting her 
great arms above her head and then down to 
her sides regularly, like the action of a wind- 
mill or a pump. The half hours passed and 
still she lay like one dead. The workers were 
almost discouraged. It seemed a useless task 
to try to bring her to life. They would have 
given up, if Rhoda had not urged them to con- 
tinue the treatment, at least until the doctor 
got there. 

Her finger was on the pulse, and her ear over 
the heart of the patient, when she was at last 
rewarded by the first sign of life, a faint flutter 
of the eyelids, a distressed moan from the blue 
lips, and a convulsive shudder of the big body. 
The silent terrified crowd broke into cheers and 
handshakings and hysterical crying. Molly 
Calligan, the sister of the patient, now fell on 
her knees by Rhoda ’s side sobbing and wring- 
ing her hands. 


158 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘Oh, ye are a saint from heaven,’’ she cried. 
“Me father and mother and all of ns will bless 
ye as long as ye live. And we was so mean to 
ye I We ain’t fit to have ye wipe yer old dirty 
shoes on ns.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, don ’t ! ” said Rhoda in a distressed voice 
as she still leaned over her patient. 

‘ ‘ Here comes the doctor ! ’ ’ called some one, as 
a light carriage drove rapidly to the spot. 

A short, fat man jnmped to the gronnd, and 
ran to the gronp aronnd the still nnconscions 
girl. 

“Tend to her first, doctor,” cried a box-ten- 
der, pointing to Rhoda, whose relaxed arms had 
fallen to her side while her eyes had closed. 

“She’s goin’ to die! Oh! We ’ve killed her !” 
screamed Molly Calligan as they all looked at 
Rhoda ’s pale, exhansted face. 

“No,” said Rhoda, smiling faintly and rising 
to her feet. “I’m only pretty tired. I hope 
we have done the right thing, doctor.” 

“How long had she been in the water?” he 
asked briefly. 


THE RESCUE 


159 


Wlien she told him, and also their methods of 
resuscitation, he said heartily, ‘‘YouVe left 
little for me to do, ma’m. Your intelligent treat- 
ment and promptness has saved her life. It was 
a close call. But you look worn out. You’d bet- 
ter go home now and rest. I’ll finish the job.” 

Two stalwart box-tenders insisted on carry- 
ing her to the carriage on an improvised chair, 
although she protested that she was quite able 
to walk. There were a hundred people there 
by this time as the news of the drowning had 
traveled fast. The men took off their hats, and 
the women said prayers aloud as she passed 
through their ranks, and the sobs and blessings 
of the friends of the rescued girl were ringing 
in her ears as she drove away with her head on 
the shoulder of Lizzie Becket. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A RAINY DAY 

T he hop growers had been favored since 
the opening of the season with beautiful, 
dry weather, so that for the first two weeks 
there had been no delay in harvesting the large 
crops. But at last there came a change. One 
day the sky was overcast, and the next morning 
rain began to fall steadily before any one was 
stirring. 

John had told his pickers not to come out if 
it rained, so when they heard the patter on the 
windows, many of the girls dropped their heads 
on their pillows again for the luxury of another 
morning nap. They could do this with much 
peace of mind as Mrs. Johnson sent word by 
little Huldy that breakfast would be an hour 
late that morning. 

Ever since Mrs. Johnson had found out who 


160 


A RAINY DAY 


161 


the Minnichutes were, their condition had grad- 
ually improved. First, curtains were hung over 
the windows. Then a stand with a lamp took 
the place of the broken-backed chair and the 
candle. Mirrors, wash-bowls and pitchers, with 
plenty of clean towels next made their appear- 
ance, and the grateful girls felt themselves al- 
most civilized again. Afteir the strike Mrs. 
Johnson took great pains to show them favors 
in the presence and hearing of the Mud Creek- 
ites, who were now quiet and sullen and never 
spoke to them. The Minnichutes were called to 
their meals before the others and given the best 
places at the tables and had extras in the way of 
dessert, and as a crowning mark of favor they 
were invited to use the parlor and piano when- 
ever they chose. They had not taken advantage 
of this privilege except on Sundays, because 
after the long day in the open air they were too 
tired and sleepy to dress for evening, and gen- 
erally went to bed soon after supper. 

But with all the improvements, their rooms 
were not comfortable enough to make a rainy 


162 


THE HOP PICKERS 


day in them attractive, and after breakfast they 
were glad to accept Mrs. Johnson’s standing in- 
vitation, and moved in a body to the parlor. A 
bright fire was burning in the open grate and 
the piano stood invitingly open, when they en- 
tered the room. 

‘‘Plow perfectly glorious !” exclaimed Jennie, 
dancing around with her arms flying. 

“I thought a rainy day would be awfully 
poky,” said little Hattie, “but I believe we can 
have more fun here than picking hops.” 

“I wonder if Mrs. Johnson -will let us pop 
corn over these coals,” said a little girl, sitting 
down on the floor before the fire. 

“She’ll let us do anything,” replied Jessie, 
promptly. “I’m going to ask her for the pop- 
per and some com. ’ ’ 

Kitty went with her, and Jennie said: “Let’s 
have some music before the popping begins.” 

May was placed on the piano stool by a dozen 
hands and began to run her fingers over the 
keys. “What shall we sing?” she asked. 

“College songs,” replied Tilly, promptly. 


A RAINY DAY 


163 


The Becket girls knew a dozen or more of 
these which their brother Ned was always sing- 
ing at home. May or Lizzie sang the verses, 
the other girls soon learning and joining in the 
rollicking choruses. They were enjoying them- 
selves prodigiously when they were interrupted 
by the return of the little girls, who burst into 
the room, Hattie exclaiming shrilly; ‘^Oh, girls, 
what do you think! When we came back with 
the popper just now we saw a lot of the ‘Low 
Downs ^ with shawls over their heads, crouching 
in the rain under the windows of. the parlor. 
WTiat do you s ’pose they were there for ? Did 
they mean to hurt us ? ” 

“Hurt us!” echoed Jennie. “No, of course 
not. The poor things were trying to hear our 
music. ’ ’ 

“Crumbs from the rich man’s table,” quoted 
Ann, but no one heard her, and Nora said as she 
came forward from her corner on the sofa, 
“Why don’t they come in and listen like re- 
spectable people?” 

“Do you suppose Mrs. Johnson would allow 


164* THE HOP PICKERS 

them to come into this sacred room ! ’ ’ exclaimed 
Jennie. ’Course she wouldn’t. We’re the 

chosen people and they’re the outcasts.” 

‘‘Oh, what nonsense!” cried Ada, im- 
patiently. “If they’d be clean and decent Mrs. 
Johnson would treat them as she does us.” 

“But I don’t believe they know how to be 
decent,” said Batty, taking up the discussion. 
‘ ‘ Their folks are poor and ignorant, and haven’t 
taught them anything. ’ ’ 

“Why should they be blamed for what they 
can’t help?” said Jessie, adding her mite to the 
argument. 

“Do you think everybody ought to be treated 
alike and have the same privileges?” asked 
Minnie. 

“Yes, why not?” asked Jennie, defiantly. 

“Then there wouldn’t be any servants,” put 
in Myra. “We would have to wait on our- 
selves.” 

“And if we had servants we’d have to invite 
them to our parties, and they would sit at the 
table with us,” said Nina. 


A RAINY DAY 


165 


think it^s perfectly right to have upper 
and lower classes/’ said Ada, decidedly. 

There wouldn’t be any society if people 
weren’t divided that way.” 

‘ ‘ I think so too, ’ ’ said Nina, ‘ ‘ and we all ought 
to think so, for that is taught in the Bible. ’ ’ 

‘‘The Bible!” cried Tilly. “How do you 
make that out?” 

“ ‘Servants, obey your masters in the 
Lord,’ ” quoted Nina, triumphantly. 

“But the Bible says; ‘Do unto others as you 
would have them do unto you,’ ” cried Jennie 
eagerly. “You can’t get round that.” 

“Well, if you want your brother to marry the 
washwoman, you may. I don’t,” said Nina, as 
a final “clincher.” 

Rhoda sat before the fire in a little rocker 
during this lively discussion. Her placid face 
wore an expression of gentle amusement as she 
listened, while she stroked the fur of a little 
kitten in her lap, and she laughed with the others 
at Nina’s logical closing of the argument. 

“And now,” she said, when her voice could 


166 THE HOP PICKERS 

be beard. ‘‘Since we have settled this import- 
ant question, let us have some more music. ’ ’ 

The girls agreed, and after much urging, Ada 
took her seat on the piano stool and began to 
play a march loudly, to drown the noise of the 
corn popping which was now going on. In a 
moment or two Rhoda put the kitten on the floor, 
and stepped quietly to the porch, and onto the 
grass. As she expected, a dozen or more of the 
Mud Creek girls were hovering in the rain as 
near the windows of the parlor as they could get 
without being seen from within. Before they 
were aware of her presence she was among 
them, saying kindly: “Won’t you come in, 
girls? We’d like to have you sit with us and 
listen to the music.” 

They were taken completely by surprise, and 
burst into giggles and smothered cries as they 
vanished round the corner of the house, all ex- 
cept one child about Kitty’s age, who stumbled 
and fell, cutting her bare, red, little foot on a 
piece of glass which lay in her path. 

She was very much frightened and began to 


A RAINY DAY 


167 


scream, more with terror than pain, as she saw 
the blood running from the wound. Rhoda 
lifted her to a seat on the edge of the porch, 
and wrapped her handkerchief round the in- 
jured foot. The Minnichute girls heard the 
cries, and came swarming out to see what was 
the matter. They crowded round the group, 
asking questions and adding a good deal to the 
noise and confusion. Rhoda told them of the 
accident and then sent them hack, saying to the 
little girl, soothingly: ‘‘Now I’m going to take 
you in where we can get some water to bathe 
your poor foot, and then when we put a nice, 
clean cloth around it I’m sure you’ll feel bet- 
ter. ’ ’ 

The child kept on sobbing, but she did not 
draw away when Rhoda put her arm around 
her and led her limping indoors. Mrs. J ohnson 
looked rather glum and unsympathetic, hut she 
directed Rhoda to a hack shed where they found 
water, and soon after, Huldy came to bring a 
roll of soft, old, cotton cloth and a bottle of 
opodeldoc. 


168 THE HOP PICKERS 

Rhoda sat on the floor, the little girl on a stool 
before her, and with skilful fingers dressed the 
wound, all the time talking cheerfully to her 
small patient whose crying gradually stopped, 
as she watched the operation. ‘‘You like music, 
don^t youT’ asked Rhoda, smiling up into the 
child’s face. 

“7 do,” said Huldy, who was acting as sur- 
geon’s assistant. “Wisht I could hear them 
girls play the planner.” 

“Wouldn’t Mrs. Johnson allow you to go in 
the parlor to listen for a little while?” asked 
Rhoda. 

“Not if I ast her. She might if you would ” 
replied Huldy eagerly. 

“Well, I’ll ask her, and would you like to go, 
too ? ’ ’ she asked, turning to the other child, who 
was too bashful to speak and answered by nod- 
ding shyly, while her large, black eyes shone 
excitedly. 

The foot was bandaged neatly now, and the 
young surgeon rose, saying; “Will you run, 
Huldy, and tell this little girl’s friends that she 


A RAINY DAY 169 

is better and will stay with me for a while. 
When you come back we’ll go and see Mrs. 
Johnson about you.” 

Huldy darted away on her errand and was 
back again in a few seconds, almost breathless, 
and together the three went to the kitchen where 
they found Mrs. Johnson as busy as usual. She 
was not as amiable as her little handmaid had 
hoped. She said grumblingly, that Huldy was 
a ‘^regular little shirk” and didn’t ‘‘earn her 
salt.” She had to be watched every minute to 
get anything out of her, and she was needed 
especially then to help prepare vegetables for 
dinner. She couldn’t think of allowing her to 
go to the parlor. 

Rhoda did not give up, however, and by dint 
of a little tactful persuasion, she made a com- 
promise. Huldy was allowed to sit by the par- 
lor door with a pan of potatoes in her lap, which 
she promised to peel diligently while she lis- 
tened to the music. 

Half lifting the lame child into the parlor, 
Rhoda returned to her place by the fire and 


170 


THE HOP PICKERS 


took her charge onto her lap, saying: ‘‘IVe 
promised this little girl some music. Some one 
please play for her. Leave the door open, Kitty, 
so that Huldy can hear. She ’s just outside with 
her work. ’ ’ 

“Well! It takes Rhoda to do things,’^ ex- 
claimed Tilly. “Here we sit and argue till the 
air is blue. Rhoda says nothing, but she 
actsJ^ 

Jessie offered some popcorn to the newcomer 
with a hospitable smile, and Jennie laid a hand 
on her black, curly head, saying: “IsnT she 
cunning? And how pretty she is! She’s quite 
clean, too,” she added, noticing the thin, faded 
calico gown. 

“You wouldn’t talk like that before her if 
she were the President’s daughter, would you?” 
asked Rhoda, smiling. 

“I thought you believed all people should 
be treated alike, ’ ’ said Nina, derisively. 

“Theory and practice can’t always be made 
to fit together,” said Lizzie, putting her arm 
around Jennie’s waist. 


A RAINY DAY 


171 


‘‘Consistency is a jewel/’ quoted Myra, join- 
ing the group. 

“Oh, I own up!” cried Jennie, explosively. 
“Pitch into me, all of you. I am as much of a 
snob as any one. I might as well confess that 
I can’t think of some people as really human, 
and this little thing seems to me only a strayed 
kitten. ’ ’ 

“Oh, Jennie Dill, you’re really ever so much 
worse than any of us. You can’t preach to us 
any more, ’ ’ cried Minnie. 

‘ ‘ Hush, girls 1 ’ ’ warned Rhoda. “We have a 
dear, bright, little creature for our guest. You 
don’t know how much of your talk is under- 
stood.” 

“What’s her name?” asked Hattie, staring 
at the little guest as she offered her the popcorn 
again. 

“I don’t know. Won’t you tell me, dear?” 
asked Rhoda, gently. 

The child had not raised her eyes from the 
floor since she came into the room, and sat very 
still on Rhoda ’s lap as though afraid to move. 


172 


THE HOP PICKERS 


She- had not spoken a word, but when she was 
asked for her name, she whispered it very 
faintly. 

‘^Did you say Matey r’ asked Rhoda, who was 
not sure she had heard aright. 

The child nodded ‘‘yes,” and Rhoda said 
pleasantly; “What a pretty name! I like it 
very much.” 

‘ ‘ Sister, would you tell the President’s daugh- 
ter when you first met her that you thought her 
name a pretty one?” asked Jennie, slyly. 

“Was I condescending?” asked Rhoda, join- 
ing in the laugh that followed, and Tilly, re- 
marking that she guessed “odds were even” 
all round now, began to play “Yankee Doodle” 
for the benefit of the “strayed kitten,” and the 
little scullion peeling potatoes by the door. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 

T hey were in the parlor again one after- 
noon. It was not a rainy day, bnt there 
was a cold and disagreeable wind out-of-doors, 
which made the warm, quiet parlor seem very 
cozy. The girls were having a very unexpected 
holiday. Word had been passed around in the 
yard soon after dinner that the drying kilns 
could not keep pace with the amount of hops on 
hand, so all picking would have to stop for 
half a day. 

The little girls decided to stay in the yard 
for a frolic among the vines, and to go with 
John later to see the operation of pressing and 
baling hops for the market. The older girls, 
dressed in the clothes they wore on Sundays, 
looked very comfortable and domestic, clus- 
tered in groups about the large room. There 

173 


174 


THE HOP PICKERS 


was a good deal of singing and piano playing, 
while some of the thrifty girls were busy with 
thimbles and needles, glad of a chance to do 
a little necessary mending. 

‘^Here’s the mail, girls cried Tilly, bound- 
ing into the room with a bundle under her arm. 

There were shrieks of joy and a general 
scramble as the letters were sorted, and then 
a silence fell as, with absorbed faces and little 
exclamations of surprise or pleasure, the home 
news was read. 

‘‘You look happy said Rhoda, glancing at 
Flora’s beaming face. 

“IVe reason to. Papa writes that Aunt 
Lizzie came very unexpectedly to make a visit. 
She ’s going to stay with Papa and the children 
while Mama goes off for a vacation. That 
takes a load off my mind. She needed a change 
more than I did. ’ ’ 

Rhoda was reading a letter which seemed to 
interest her very much. She flushed and smiled, 
and then said as she handed the letter to Jennie : 
“This is for you, too, dear.” 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 


175 


‘‘Who can be writing to us from Ballymore 
exclaimed Jennie examining the postmark. 
“W. R. Mitchell,’’ she went on reading the 
signature. “I never heard of him before.” 

“The best way to find out who wrote your 
letter is to read it,” said Myra, laughing. 

“Wliy! It’s from the Calligans’ priest!” 
exclaimed Jennie after reading a few lines. 
“And he’s said all kinds of nice things to us 
about saving that girl’s life. It seems the Calli- 
gans can’t write, and have been waiting for 
their priest to come round and write for them.” 

“I thought it was queer that you never heard 
a word from that girl’s parents,” Fanny re- 
marked. 

“Or from any body else, for that matter,” 
grumbled Nora. 

“Nobody seems to think Rhoda and Jennie 
did anything remarkable in saving a drowning 
girl. You never hear any one speak of that aw- 
ful day any more than as if it hadn’t hap- 
pened. ’ ’ 

“That’s the way with country people,” said 


176 


THE HOP PICKERS 


Rhoda. ‘^They usually are silent about such 
matters. But I have no doubt they talk among 
themselves. ^ ’ 

‘^Yes, that^s what John says/^ said Nelly. 
‘^He told us they talked about nothing else in 
all the hop yards. They seem to think the Dill 
girls belong to a superior order of beings.’’ 

‘‘T’m glad they don’t tell us that,” said Jen- 
nie. ‘‘We wouldn’t know how to hide our 
blushes, would we, Rhoda?” 

“We don’t deserve all the praise,” said 
Rhoda. “We couldn’t have done anything 
without Tilly, May and Flora.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, what nonsense I ’ ’ protested May. “We 
really did nothing that any one there would not 
have done. Every one knows you two are the 
real heroines.” 

“What are those box-tenders doing?” ex- 
claimed Minnie, calling every one’s attention 
to the window. 

Two young men, carrying some heavy planks 
on their shoulders, were coming toward the 
house, and finally stopped before the parlor 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 


177 


windows where they arranged some rude seats 
against the side of the house by placing flat 
stones under the ends of the boards. 

‘‘Those are for our audience,” said Myra. 
“They’re tired of standing, or sitting on the 
ground, and they’re going to make themselves 
comfortable. ’ ’ 

“Isn’t it queer that they won’t come in?” 
said Nelly. “We’ve almost begged them to, 
you know. ’ ’ 

“I’ve given that up,” said Rhoda. “They 
seem to like us better at a distance. They van- 
ish every time I try to scrape acquaintance with 
them. Even little Matey runs away when I 
speak to her. Yet I know she likes me, for she 
often sends me little bunches of asters and 
golden rod by the box-tenders.” 

“I believe they feel friendly to us now,” re- 
marked Nelly. “Have you noticed that some of 
them say ‘good morning’ when they pass us? 
They are as quiet as mice in their room, and now 
they wear stockings and shoes and are quite 
clean and respectable.” 


178 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘John says it^s all our doings/’ remarked 
Nora. “He says he never saw such a 
change.” 

“It’s no one’s doings but Rhoda’s and Jen- 
nie’s,” cried Tilly, stoutly. “They conquered 
the barbarians by bringing one of them to life, 
and then you know Rhoda played good Samari- 
tan to the strayed kitten.” 

“John told me he thought it was the music 
more than anything else,” remarked Ann, in 
her slow, guttural voice. 

“Well, at any rate, they don’t look like the 
same creatures,” remarked Fanny. “Isn’t it 
queer how we’ve all stopped calling them the 
‘Low Downs’?” 

“There they come,” cried Nina, as a proces- 
sion of Mud Creek girls, wrapped in shawls and 
cloaks, came in sight, and silently took their 
seats on the benches. 

“Don’t look at them or they will run!” 
warned Rhoda. “Somebody play something 
lively!” 

While Tilly reeled off waltzes and mazurkas. 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 179 
Flora found a seat on a sofa at the end of the 
room, and Jennie, sitting beside her, began 
darning a stocking. 

‘‘We never have a minute alone together,” 
complained Flora. 

“No,” agreed Jennie. “A hop yard is not a 
good place for bosom friends to exchange se- 
crets in.” 

“We might as well be miles apart,” said 
Flora. 

“Oh, no, not so bad as that,” said Jennie 
cheerfully. “We see each other every minute. 
We have lots of fun, and we’re getting rich in 
the bargain.” 

“How much will you have when we’re 
through?” asked Flora. 

‘ ‘ Forty-five dollars I expect. If I hadn ’t been 
frivolous it would have been sixty. Rhoda will 
earn that much. Isn’t that riches?” ^ 

“You’ll make more than I will,” said Flora. 
“I was reckoning a little to-day, and if I don’t 
do better than I have. I’ll only take home thirty- 
five dollars.” 


180 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘Oh, that^s too bad!” cried Jennie, sympa- 
thizingly. “ I sure that because you haven T 
got your strength back since your sickness, and 
you canT work like the rest of us.” 

“You 11 have most enough to go to Chicago 
this fall, won! you?” said Flora. 

Jennie looked around to see that no one was 
listening before she answered. “I haven! had 
a chance to tell you, Flo, what we are planning. 
My family say I must go to the city this fall 
to study. We saved twenty-five dollars from 
my school wages. Rhoda and Kitty insist on 
putting their hop money with mine, and to-day 
Father’s letter says that he has just collected 
an old debt and can help out. So I suppose it’s 
settled. Now, isn’t there any way for you to go, 
too?” 

“I can’t see any way,” said Flora, mourn- 
fully. “There isn’t any one to help me.” 

“I can’t tell you how bad that makes me 
feel,” said Jennie, letting her stocking drop 
from her hands. “I can’t bear to go without 
you.” And then, brightening, she added: “But 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 


181 


perhaps something will turn up after all. Let’s 
not give it up.” 

‘‘Jennie, why don’t you sing ‘Upidee’ with 
us ? ” called Tilly. 

“Too busy telling secrets to my bosomest,” 
said Jennie, darning busily. 

‘ ‘ But we need your big voice. Can’t you stop 
talking long enough to join in the chorus?” 

“I’m tired of college songs,” said Myra, 
leaving the piano. “We’re singing them from 
morning to night in the hop yard.” 

“Why can’t we have a hop picker’s song?” 
asked one of the girls. 

“Who’s musician enough to write one?” 
asked Rhoda. 

“We might take a tune we know and fit some 
words to it,” suggested Lizzie. 

“That sounds feasible,” remarked Rhoda. 
“Who is our poet?” 

‘ ‘ Flora ! ’ ’ answered J ennie, promptly. ‘ ‘ She 
writes lovely verses.” 

“No, I don’t,” said Flora, blushing and smil- 
ing. “I can’t do anything but doggerel.” 


182 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘DoggerePs good enough for us. You can 
do it if you try. Get her pencil and paper.’’ 

‘‘Do, please, Flora, won’t you?” urged the 
girls, flocking around her. 

“Well, I’ll try. But we’ll have to decide on 
the tune first,” said Flora, looking very ani- 
mated. 

“ Don ’t take a college song, ’ ’ warned Myra. 

“How would ‘The Last Rose of Summer’ 
do?” asked Lizzie. 

“Too slow and mournful. Let’s have some- 
thing unusual but gay,” said Jennie, decidedly. 

“May, you must know just what we want,” 
said Tilly. 

“ ‘Vive la Compagnie’ would do, wouldn’t 
it, sister?” suggested Lizzie. 

“But we can’t sing in French,” objected 
Tilly. 

“The words might be English, and you could 
learn the French chorus easily,” urged Lizzie. 
“It’s very pretty.” 

“Let’s hear it,” said several girls together. 

The Becket sisters sang the little, convivial 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 


183 


French ditty, and as Lizzie had predicted, the 
whole party were soon joining strongly in the 
chorus, very much charmed with the musical 
foreign song. 

‘ ‘Now, Flo, put on your thinking cap, and let’s 
have some words that mean something,” ex- 
claimed Tilly, briskly. 

They allowed the young poet to go to their de- 
serted room, where she would be entirely alone 
while she “courted the Muse,” as May put it. 
She had a nimble mind, and was very quick at 
tasks of this sort. Some time before supper 
she had composed a parody on the little French 
song, and brought it to May to sing while the 
other girls joined in the chorus. 

“A gay, merry set of hop pickers we are, 

Vive la compagnie ! 

We come from near and we come from afar 
Vive la compagnie ! 

Chorus : 

Vive la, vive la, vive la vous 
Vive la, vive la, vive la vous 
Vive la vous, vive la vous 
Vive la compagnie ! 


184- THE HOP PICKErS 

From Mud Creek and Atwood and Minnichute too 
Vive la compagnie ! 

We work and we play, as hop pickers do 

Vive la compagnie! {Chorus) 

There Rhoda and Minnie and Lizzie and May 
Vive la compagnie ! 

There’s Kitty and Jessie and tall Ada Fay 

Vive la compagnie! {Chorus) 

And Myra and Jennie and all of the rest 
Vive la compagnie ! 

Though little and hig, we all do our best 

Vive la compagnie! {Chorus) 

Hurrah for 0. Johnson, three cheers for his wife 
Vive la compagnie ! 

Peace, comfort and pleasure he theirs all their life 
Vive la compagnie!” {Chorus) 

‘‘Wliy, how pretty!” exclaimed Rhoda, 
warmly. “It’s really very nice and smooth.” 

“Of course! What did I tell you?” cried 
Jennie, proudly. “Flora’ll have a great name 
some day.” 

“Does it always make your cheeks red and 
your hands cold to write poetry?” asked the 
observant Kitty, who had come in with the 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 185 
other little girls and now stood with her arm 
round the waist of the young poet. 

^‘Yes, always. I wish it wouldn’t/’ said 
Flora, looking for a seat. 

‘‘If I was going to write a poem I’d lay a 
wet towel on my head and put some mittens 
on before I began, ’ ’ remarked little Hattie. 

“I don’t think the song’s long enough,” said 
Jessie. “I wish you’d put in a verse about 
John.” 

“That would make the other box-tenders 
jealous,” remarked May. 

“I wanted to get the box-tenders in, but I 
couldn’t think of a rhyme,” said Flora. “I 
tried a long time and then had to give it up.” 

“It seems too bad to leave them out when 
they do so much for us,” remarked Jennie. 

“Well, suppose some of you try,” suggested 
Flora, pressing her cold hands on her burning 
cheeks. 

They were all silent for a moment. Flora’s 
rhymes sounded so simple and easy it seemed 
as though any one could write them with a little 


186 


THE HOP PICKERS 


thought. After a while J essie remarked plain- 
tively, ‘‘I can think of plenty of things to say, 
but the words won’t jingle together as Flora 
makes ’em.” 

‘'How would this do?” cried Tilly, jumping 
up and speaking excitedly. 

“We pick and we sing from morning till night 
And then, for a change, the box-tenders fight.” 

They all laughed, and Rhoda said protest- 
ingly: “Oh, no! We must say something nice 
about them or — ” 

“WTiat’s a good rhyme for poles,” inter- 
rupted Flora, her brows knitted and her pencil 
twisting nervously in her fingers. 

“Bowls,” “coals,” “doles,” “foals,” 
“goals,” “holes,” “souls,” suggested the dif- 
ferent ones in the group about her. 

‘ ‘ Stop ! ’ ’ cried Flora, at the last word. “ I ’ve 
got it. Keep still a minute, please.” 

They watched her silently while she scribbled 
and erased, and then read aloud : 


THE HOP PICKER’S SONG 187 

“Here’s a cheer for the strong men who bring ns our 
poles 

Vive la compagnie! 

We couldn’t he pickers without the good souls 
Vive la compagnie!” (Choriis) 

The girls clapped their hands, and Rhoda said 
that would do very well. 

“It’s just perfect!” cried the ardent Jennie, 
hugging her friend. “Flo, I’m proud of you.” 

“Flora might have got all our names in,” 
said Nina, rather sulkily. 

“I tried to,” said Flora, quickly, “but I 
thought it would make the song too long. So I 
just took the ones that jingled together, as Jes- 
sie says.” 

“Flora didn’t put her own name in,” re- 
marked Ann, “so I think the rest of us should 
be satisfied.” 


CHAPTEE XVI 
PLANNING A “SHOW” 

T he new song became very popular at 
once. The girls sang it over and over at 
their work, and shortly everybody, even the 
box-tenders and the Mud Creek party, whistled 
or hummed snatches of it at all hours, and it 
threatened to become rather threadbare. 

Flora, as the author, received more praise 
and applause than poets usually do at the hands 
of their neighbors and friends. If it made her 
vain she had too much good taste to show it, and 
only dimpled silently when any one spoke to 
her about her talent. 

Write some more songs, Flo, and let’s give 
a concert,” said Nina one day. 

‘‘What a good idea!” cried Jennie. “I be- 
lieve Mrs. Johnson would like that better than 
a shindig.” 


188 


PLANNING A “SHOW’’ 


189 


‘‘I heard her tell the princess they’d got to 
go to baking pretty soon for the shindig, and 
she wished the pesky row was over,” remarked 
Nelly. 

‘‘Those shindigs are disgraceful,” said May, 
emphatically. “My mother would be ashamed 
of us if she knew we’d been to one.” 

“That’s what I say,” broke in Nina eagerly. 
“Why not reform them? We can have a per- 
fectly respectable performance and one that 
everybody, even the roughest ones, will like, if 
we try.” 

“Let’s have something besides music,” sug- 
gested Hattie. “Tillie knows a lot of funny 
pieces to speak and May knows how to get up 
tableaux.” 

“You know the old cook book says when it 
tells you how to cook a rabbit, ‘First get your 
hare,’ ” quoted Jennie. “Perhaps Mrs. John- 
son wouldn’t approve of our plan.” 

“I’m afraid our little doings would seem 
rather tame to the hop pickers in this region,” 
remarked Rhoda, who was busily picking hops 


190 THE HOP PICKERS 

while this discussion went on round her stand. 

‘‘Now, sister, please don’t throw cold water 
on the plan,” said Kitty. “I think it would be 
ever so much fun, and I’m sure every body’ll 
like it as well as their old dance.” 

“You go and ask Mrs. Johnson, Jen,” said 
Nina. “You’re her favorite. She’ll let you do 
anything. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How absurd ! ’ ’ said J ennie, laughing. ‘ ‘ But 
I’m willing to ask her. Not now, though. She ’s 
always cross when she’s getting a meal 
ready.” 

“Well, go to her this evening. But I’m sure 
she’ll let us have our show, so we might as well 
be deciding what we’ll have,” said Minnie. 

There was a great deal of talking to very little 
purpose after that, a great many things were 
proposed and rejected as unsuitable, and noth- 
ing had been really decided about the program 
when J ennie and Flora went to the kitchen after 
supper to interview their formidable hostess. 

They found her with flour up to her elbows, 
kneading an immense batch of bread. She kept 


PLANNING A “SHOW’^ 


191 


on with her work, hut she smiled and consented 
at once to the proposals of the girls. She dis- 
liked the noise and confusion of the ordinary 
hop picker’s dance, though she would never 
allow any fighting or intoxication on the floor 
of her ballroom. Besides, she would go out of 
her way to thwart the wishes of the Mud Creek- 
ites, who she knew were counting on the dance, 
which was to come off on the next Saturday 
night at her house. 

“Where do you want to have your show?’^ 
she asked, when the outline of the plan had been 
unfolded. 

“The dining room will be the best place,” 
said Jennie. “We can get John to make a 
little stage at one end. We can use shawls for 
curtains. The dining room chairs can be ar- 
ranged in rows for seats, and so make a nice 
little hall, don’t you see?” 

“Yes, I see you’ve got everything mapped 
out and Jack Munson roped in, ’ ’ said Mrs. J ohn- 
son, smiling. “But if you use the dining room 
for your show, where’ll we have supper?” 


192 


THE HOP PICKERS 


^‘Oh, yes, I^d forgotten all about tbat,^’ said 
Jennie ruefully. 

‘'You bet the pickers from all the yards round 
won’t forget about supper,” said Mrs. Johnson 
as she lifted her great, elastic ball of dough to 
the big pan and punched it vigorously with her 
red fists. 

“Why can’t we pass the supper around on 
plates ? ’ ’ suggested Flora. 

“Massy sakes! That’d never do,” declared 
Mrs. Johnson. “They’d be sloppin’ coffee and 
spillin’ victuals on the floor, and like as not 
have a row before they was through. Ye see, I 
know hop pickers better ’n you do. I suppose I 
could set the tables out in the yard and make 
’em stand up to their supper,” she went on 
after a pause. 

The girls had been feeling rather discouraged 
by the obstacles Mrs. Johnson had mentioned, 
but now they saw she was really in favor of 
their enterprise and meant to help them in car- 
rying it out. 

“That would be lovely,” Jennie exclaimed. 


PLANNING A “SHOW” 193 

as tlie last suggestion was made. ‘‘We could 
hang lanterns in the trees.’’ 

“And there’s a bright moon, you know, if the 
weather is clear,” added Flora. 

“Well,” said Mrs. Johnson quite amiably. 
“Fix things to suit yourselves and I’ll help 
you all I can.” 

So it was settled, and the two ambassadors 
ran off to tell their comrades the good news. 

Of course, after that, there was much eager 
talking and planning. They had only two days 
in which to prepare for their “Varieties,” as 
they concluded to call the entertainment, and 
it was necessary to settle on their program that 
evening. 

“Tableaux are so hard to get up,” objected 
some one when they were mentioned. 

“Oh, no. You’re mistaken,” said May 
eagerly. ‘ ‘ They’re just as easy as can be. I’ve 
helped my mother arrange them dozens of 
times for church festivals and private theatri- 
cals. All we need are some pictures to get ideas 
of drapery and attitudes and all that.” 


194 < 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘We couldn’t have anything very gorgeous, 
May,” said Lizzie, “for we haven’t the cos- 
tumes.” 

“But there’s statuary. That’s easy,” per- 
sisted May. 

“Why, I should think that would be the 
hardest of anything,” cried Jennie. 

“Not if we had some pictures of statues. 
That’s the trouble,” said May, rather at a loss. 

“Didn’t I see some stereopticon views in this 
room?” asked Jennie, beginning to rummage 
on the center table. “Yes, here they are! 
And, oh, good ! There are some statues. ’ ’ 

May looked over the pile and found a num- 
ber which would answer her purpose very well. 
“I can remember how to manage two or three 
besides,” she said. “All we need are plenty 
of clean sheets, some flour, and a few old boxes. 
And we can get those things, I’m sure. Mrs. 
Johnson always gives us our clean sheets on 
Sunday. She will be willing to have us use them 
the evening before, and John will get us the 
boxes for pedestals.” 


PLANNING A “SHOW’’ 


195 


The remainder of the evening was spent in 
rather confused discussion. But by bed time 
a suitable program was finally made out, and 
the party went to sleep with visions of wonder- 
ful scenes running through their hea^. 


CHAPTEE XVn 

THE JOHNSON “VARIETIES” 

T he next day John was enlisted to make 
the stage and to get such articles as would 
be needed from the village. Every moment that 
could be spared, and many that were taken out- 
right from hop picking, were spent in rehear- 
sals, and the good-natured John was kept busy 
all the evening in going back and forth on er- 
rands. 

Jennie and Flora had been elected managers, 
and flew around with tumbled hair and red 
faces on the last day, and every one was de- 
lightfully excited and hurried. Mrs. Johnson 
advised them to keep the affair a secret dur- 
ing the preparations, as any innovation on the 
old order of things would be sure to meet with 
opposition and it would be better, therefore, to 

196 


THE JOHNSON “VARIETIES’^ 197 
have the audience come and be seated before 
they knew what was going on. 

So after supper the tables were cleared by 
eager hands and carried to the yard. The 
chairs were placed in rows with an aisle down 
the center of the room. Side lamps with tin 
reflectors were arranged on. temporary brackets 
which John had made for the occasion. The 
rude stage was covered with an old carpet Mrs. 
Johnson provided, and the room was entirely 
transformed and looked quite like a little the- 
ater. Jennie and Flora arranged some large 
shawls as curtains, and tacked a number of gray 
horse blankets which John brought to them 
against the rough wall, as a background. And 
then, to their astonishment and delight, Mrs. 
Johnson had the piano moved from the parlor 
and put on the stage. The girls had not dared 
to ask for this, but knew that it would add im- 
mensely to their resources. 

Oh, Mrs. Johnson, how splendid you are!” 
cried Jennie, running up to the little woman and 
actually putting her arms around her, a pro- 


198 THE HOP PICKERS 

ceeding which rather astonished and embar- 
rassed Mrs. J ohnson. 

But she looked pleased after all as she said : 
‘‘Oh, that^s all right. You might as well ‘go 
the whole hog’ while yer about it.” 

The company was expected to arrive about 
seven o’clock, as that was the usual time for 
dancing to begin. It was not customary to 
send invitations, but it was understood that all 
in the neighboring yards who wished to do so 
were free to come. If the night was pleasant, 
a hundred guests could be counted on, so that 
number of seats had been provided, and John 
was stationed at the door to receive the first ar- 
rivals. 

Mrs. Johnson had given the Mud Creek girls 
orders to keep their rooms until they were 
called, as she “wouldn’t have ’em under foot 
till the time came.” At seven o’clock she went 
to their door and told them they might come 
down now as it was about time to begin. John 
was astonished when they appeared, for they 
had made themselves quite presentable. But 


THE JOHNSON “VARIETIES” 199 
this was not more surprising than their quiet, 
subdued manners as he led them to their seats 
near the stage. 

Pretty soon a company of pickers and box- 
tenders came from PowelPs yard. They were 
noisy and boisterous until they reached the door, 
and then as John led them to their seats, they 
were struck dumb with surprise and bashful- 
ness. People were now coming in squads of 
from ten to twenty-five, and John was kept busy 
in seating the new-comers until every chair was 
filled, and the late ones had to stand in a crowd 
at the end of the room. 

Mrs. Johnson peeped through a crack in the 
kitchen door in amazement. The whole com- 
pany had been seated with no noise or confus- 
ion, and were all silently listening in the most 
absorbed way to the noisy pieces May was play- 
ing. When the music stopped one could have 
heard a pin drop. 

Suddenly the lamps were turned out, and the 
room was left in total darkness except for the 
glimmer of a little lamp on the piano. Before 


200 


THE HOP PICKERS 


any one had time to exclaim, May commenced to 
play a march and ^ ‘ The Light Brigade ^ ’ walked 
up the aisle in single file, keeping step to the 
music. 

In a moment the long hall was brilliantly 
lighted in the most startling fashion. Rhoda 
marched at the head of the procession of girls, 
each one wrapped in a white sheet, with her 
hair twisted in a tight knot on the top of her 
head, while in the knot was firmly planted a 
burning candle. They all carried wands in their 
right hands made of sticks about two feet long, 
wound with sprays of hop vines. As they filed 
in and took positions on the stage, and then 
went through a drill under Rhoda ’s directions, 
the effect was astonishingly brilliant. It quite 
awed the crowd, who gazed in perfect stillness 
at the spectacle. 

The girls performed some rather intricate fig- 
ures, winding in and out a good deal, all the 
time waving their pretty wands, but keeping 
their heads very erect to prevent grease from 
spilling from the candles. At a signal from 


THE JOHNSON “VARIETIES’^ 201 


Rhoda they stopped at last, and then sank on one 
knee in a circle, Jennie in the middle with a 
pair of snuffers in her hand. John lighted the 
side lamp while J ennie went round the kneeling 
circle and, with a deft snip, put out each light. 
Flora followed in her wake, collecting the 
candles which she put in a basket, and the open- 
ing number of the program was over. 

The curtains were drawn while the sheets 
were taken off. Rhoda then came to the front 
of the stage and announced that the next exer- 
cise would be a recitation from Miss Tilly 
Mickells, who stepped forward and with her 
best bow gave them ‘‘The Lost Heir,” in a 
spirited manner. It was a funny little piece 
which she had heard a traveling elocutionist 
read in the town hall at home. She had after- 
ward found and committed it to memory, and 
now recited it with such effect that her audience 
was much pleased and followed it with hearty 
applause. Jennie recited a short poem, which 
was also funny, and the curtains were drawn 
together. 


202 THE HOP PICKERS 

After a few moments’ silence, a general stir 
commenced in the audience. 

‘^What next?” called some one. 

‘‘Bring on yer fiddles and let’s have a jig,” 
said a rough box-tender in the back of the room. 

“Oh, dry up, Sandy! This is a good enough 
show,” answered another. 

“Well, let’s have some more, then,” said an- 
other voice. 

By this time there was a loud buzz, and sev- 
eral were rising to leave their seats when 
Rhoda’s face appeared through a crack in the 
curtain to ask them to remain seated, and to 
say that the next exercise would soon be ready. 
In the meantime. Miss Becket would give them 
some more music. 

There was a general settling back into seats 
as a sign of satisfaction at this announcement, 
and all became quiet as May commenced to play. 

Again the lights in the hall were turned out. 
The curtains were drawn apart, and the audi- 
ence gazed upon a really beautiful scene. The 
little stage had been transformed into a sculp- 


THE JOHNSON “VARIETIES” 203 


tor’s studio, filled with lovely forms in snowy 
marble. The candles which the girls had worn 
on their heads were arranged in rows back of 
sheets of tin in such a way as to throw their 
whole light upon the statues, which could be seen 
distinctly in every part of the room. No one in 
the audience imagined that Lizzie, Ada, Nina, 
Minnie, Kitty, and the little Mortons were the 
figures standing there so silently. 

Of course the variety of statues was very lim- 
ited, as hair had to be covered with sheets, and 
the whole figure, with the exception of occas- 
ional bare arms and hands, was draped in more 
or less artistic folds. There were a number 
of saints in various attitudes, one or two Muses 
with upturned eyes, and a pretty little flower 
girl holding out a basket made of white bonnet 
wire, containing marble roses made of white tis- 
sue paper. The square boxes were covered 
plainly with sheets and added much to the illu- 
sion by representing the solid pedestals on 
which the statues stood or kneeled. 

Another great help was a large square of 


204> 


THE HOP PICKERS 


black mosquito-netting stretched between the 
audience and the tableaux, softening imperfec- 
tions and making the statues seem very real. 

The audience was spellbound, and no one 
spoke until the curtains were drawn apart a 
second time, when Nance Carter said in a hoarse 
whisper : ‘ ^ What ’s them, anyhow ? Ghosteses 1 ’ ’ 

Little Hattie giggled and covered her face 
with her hands at this and Rhoda drew the cur- 
tains quickly. 

‘‘Oh, Hattie, what made you!’^ cried Flora, 
impatiently. “Now youVe spoiled every- 
thing. ^ ’ 

“Well, I couldn’t help it, Flo,” said her little 
sister, almost crying. “It’s awful hard to kneel 
here with my head turned up and my eyes closed, 
and when that girl thought we were ghosts I 
had to laugh.” 

The other statues, too, were opening their 
eyes and relaxing tired muscles, spoiling the 
carefully arranged folds of drapery and mak- 
ing dark cracks in the marble faces. So the 
managers concluded to give up showing the 


THE JOHNSON “VARIETIES” 205 

scene again, though there were loud cries from 
the audience demanding another view. 

^‘It doesnT pay for all the work, does it, 
Jen,’’ said Flora, with a sigh, as she helped un- 
pin the Greek draperies and wiped flour from 
the eyes of the statues. 

‘‘But didn’t the girls look lovely?” said Jen- 
nie, enthusiastically. “I never saw anything 
so beautiful. May is a genius. It’s perfectly 
marvelous to produce such an effect from such 
materials.” 

“Yes,” said Flora, still sighing. “You know 
she was brought up in the East, and has had 
advantages which we haven’t had.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, pooh ! ’ ’ cried Jennie, firing up. ‘ ‘ Geog- 
raphy has nothing to do with it. Look at Minnie 
W aters ! She was born and lived in the East till 
last year. Compare her with Rhoda, who never 
saw the East.” 

But there was no further time for heated dis- 
cussion. The clamor was increasing in the audi- 
ence, and John went behind the curtain to beg 
the girls to start the music again. “It’s the 


206 


THE HOP PICKERS 


only thing that’ll keep ’em,” said he. ^‘7 can’t 
hold ’em, for some of them chaps from Jones’ 
are bound to have a shindig. ’ ’ 

So Tilly very good-naturedly seated herself 
at the piano and played a number of noisy 
pieces, which had the effect of stilling the audi- 
ence once more. 

Meanwhile the girls were preparing another 
tableau, and soon the curtains parted, showing 
a pretty picture which Rhoda announced as 
‘‘Star Gazing.” Lizzie was seated, gracefully 
draped in shawls to represent a train, and Kitty 
was kneeling beside her with her eyes raised, 
following the direction of Lizzie’s pointing 
finger. The faces and attitudes were so pretty 
that every one liked it, and there was a protest 
when the curtains were drawn for the last time. 

And now came the grand climax. ‘ ‘ The God- 
dess of Liberty,” announced Rhoda, after a few 
minutes’ bustle. In the middle of the stage 
stood a grand figure draped in an American 
flag. One beautiful white hand and arm was 
bare, and held a shield which the girls had con- 


THE JOHNSON “VARIETIES” 207 
trived from a pasteboard box covered with 
paper. A crown of stars rested on her bead, 
and her attitude and expression were reposeful 
and solemn. 

swan if that ain’t Mirandy Judkins,” said 
Perry, at last recognizing the goddess. 

The audience w^as not more surprised than 
the girls had been when she accepted their in- 
vitation to pose. But poor, lonely Miranda was 
very glad to be included in the festivities, and 
much to every one’s astonishment, entered very 
eagerly into the preparations. 

But now Rhoda drew the curtains together 
for the last time. The goddess had stood mo- 
tionless until she was tired, and the audience 
was making disrespectful remarks. ‘‘Come, 
girls, get otf these duds,” she said impatiently, 
throwing her crown on the floor and twisting up 
her black hair. 

“Oh, Mrs. Judkins!” cried Jennie, warmly. 
“You don’t know how lovely you looked. We 
are a thousand times obliged to you. That tab- 
leau was the very best thing we had.” 


208 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘^Yes, you were so good to help us/’ chimed 
in Flora. 

^^Well, I ain’t used to such tomfoolery, but 
you’re welcome to it if it did you any good,” 
said Miranda. ‘‘I’ll tell you what, though,” 
she went on. “You won’t get rid of them hop 
pickers with this show. They came here for a 
dance, and they’ll make a row if they don’t get 
it. Hear that noise? 

The crowd had risen from their chairs and 
were talking and laughing boisterously. But by 
this time Mrs. Johnson and John, with the help 
of two assistants, had laid the tables in the 
yard. A number of lanterns were hung in the 
trees so that the place was brightly lighted, 
and in a few minutes the company poured out of 
the house and took their places around the well- 
spread tables to enjoy one of Mrs. Johnson’s 
famous suppers. 

As soon as the eating began John rushed 
back to the house, where the girls were seated 
on the edge of the stage in a tired row. “Mis’ 
Johnson wants you to light up yer heads agin 



In the middle of the stage stood a grand figure draped in 
the American flag. 






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THE JOHNSON ‘‘VARIETIES’^ 209 


when they are through supper and take a turn 
down in the hop yards,” he said. “It’s the 
only thing to git the crowds home.” 

“Oh, but, John, we’re so tired!” protested 
Flora. 

“I know it,” said John, “but I allow you’d 
rather git shet of ’em than have ’em howling 
round till midnight.” 

Jennie had commenced to stick the candles 
in the top knots, and Rhoda said cheerfully: 

“Why, yes, of course we’ll go to please Mrs. 
Johnson.” 

‘ ‘ ’Twon ’t take long, ’ ’ added Myra. 

After a little discussion they all consented, 
and went first to their rooms for waterproofs 
and overshoes. WTien they appeared again 
they were singing the hop picker’s song, keep- 
ing step to the music. They marched to the hop 
yard where they moved in and out among the 
vines, the lights on their heads shining like 
glow-worms against a background of leaves. 

The whole company immediately started for 
the hop yard, as Mrs. Johnson supposed they 


210 


THE HOP PICKERS 


would. She had the tables quickly cleared and 
returned to their places in the dining room, and 
by the time the company had trooped back, fol- 
lowing “The Light Brigade’’ to the house, the 
dining room door was closed and locked. The 
lamps were put out. “The Light Brigade” 
marched to its quarters, the Mud Creek girls 
went to their rooms, and the guests were left 
out of doors. 

“I swanny, if that ain’t downright mean!” 
said some one indignantly. 

‘ ^ Oh, come on, boys ! ’ ’ called another. “It’s 
ten o’clock and time to quit, anyway. They’ve 
given us a good show and a boss supper. That’s 
enough for one night. We can git dancin’ 
enough next week over to Haverman’s.” 

That speech decided the crowd to be good- 
natured instead of quarrelsome, so they moved 
otf, singing the hop picker’s song, and in two 
minutes the place was as quiet as possible, much 
to the relief of Mrs. Johnson, who stood at a 
darkened window in the dining room, fully ex- 
pecting to have a struggle with an unruly mob. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE DAY AFTER THE SHOW 
HE next morning the girls felt rather tired 



A and not much like work, so there was more 
talking than picking around most of the boxes of 
the Minnichutes. Talking things over seemed to 
be as enjoyable as the acting had been the night 
before at their successful ‘‘show.’’ 

“How perfectly splendid that statuary was! 
I never saw any thing so lovely,” cried Myra. 
“May is a genius.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, no, ’ ’ said May, smiling. ‘ ‘ Those statues 
were not original with me. They’re very easy. 
I think the ‘Light Brigade’ was the best thing 
WQ had and Rhoda really invented that, you 
know.” 

“Oh, yes, of course, Rhoda ’s got more gump- 
tion than all the rest of us put together,” cried 
Tilly in her wholesale way. 


211 


212 


THE HOP PICKERS 


“I think the tableau with the Princess was as 
good as anything,’’ said Nina. 

‘‘Yes, didn’t she look grand!” echoed Tilly. 

“And then how good she was to us,” added 
Nora. “I never was more surprised in my life 
than when she came and helped us so much. 
She’s quite changed since we came, hasn’t 
sher’ 

“I believe she’s very unhappy,” remarked 
Myra. 

“I know she is,” said Jennie. “John told 
me all about her this morning.” 

“Oh, tell us, too,” cried the girls, clustering 
round Jennie. 

The beauty and sadness of the princess had 
made her an interesting figure to them, and 
they had speculated from time to time about 
the mystery which they fancied clung round 
her. Flora had declared more than once that 
she believed there was some romance in her 
life. 

“Do hurry and tell us all about it, Jen,” cried 
TiUy. 


THE DAY AFTER THE SHOW 213 


But just then the boss came up to the group, 
which had been chatting almost an hour, to the 
utter neglect of their work. His manner had 
changed entirely since the accident at the swim- 
ming pool, and he was now very respectful as 
he turned to Rhoda, who had been steadily pick- 
ing during the discussion. 

‘ ‘I’m afraid, miss. I’ll have to ask your crowd 
to go to work this morning,” he remarked al- 
most apologetically, “Johnson’s afraid of 
frost, and that ’ud spile the hops. He wants 
as many picked to-day as possible.” 

‘ ‘ Why, yes, of course, ’ ’ cried J ennie. ‘ ‘ What 
slothful servants we are. What are we think- 
ing about! Girls, off to business! I’ll tell you 
the story to-night.” 

They ran to their places and began work in 
earnest, so that by supper time most of them 
had accomplished their usual tasks. They were 
tired and sleepy at bedtime, but had not for- 
gotten about the promised story and after the 
little girls were sleeping, the older ones gath- 
ered round Jennie, as they took out hair pins 


2U THE HOP PICKERS 

and bruslied and braided their hair while they 

listened. 

‘‘Well, in the first place,’’ began Jennie, “the 
princess is ‘a grass widow’ and not a real 
one. ’ ’ 

“A grass widow!” echoed May, “I never 
heard of such a thing. “What does it mean?” 

“Why, a woman who doesn’t live with her 
husband, of course,” answered Tilly impa- 
tiently. 

“Go on, Jennie.” 

“Is she divorced?” asked Nelly. 

“No,” replied Jennie. “But if I’m going 
to tell you about her you must keep still and 
not ask any more questions till I get through, 
or I’ll never finish.” The girls settled down 
into expectant attitudes and Jennie went on: 
“John says he knows the princess’ husband 
very well. His name is Alfred Judkins, and he ’s 
the clerk at the village store.” 

“He must be that meachin’ little fellow who 
never will look us in the face when he waits on 
us ! ” broke in Tilly. 


THE DAY AFTER THE SHOW 215 


Jennie shook her finger at Tilly warningly, 
Nora placed her hand over the offending month, 
and the story proceeded. 

‘ ^ He is a mild little man several inches shorter 
than his wife. It seems she was never popular 
among young men, although she is so handsome, 
and no one wanted to marry her, because she 
had such a dreadful temper. They began to 
call her an old maid when she was twenty-five, 
when at last, she met Alfred at a party where 
they fell in love with each other at first sight. 
They were engaged at once and were soon mar- 
ried, although the families on both sides ob- 
jected to the match. After that, John said she 
led the poor little man a ^ dog’s life.’ He was 
completely under her thumb, and did not dare 
say his soul was his own. She got tired of his 
tameness, John thinks. She was used to quar- 
reling and liked the excitement of it, and so as 
it takes two to make a quarrel, she couldn’t get 
what she wanted. One day she flew into a rage 
about nothing when they had been married a 
year, and left him, telling him not to come near 


216 THE HOP PICKERS 

her till she sent for him. Mrs. Johnson needed 
her through the hop picking season, so she came 
here to live.’^ 

‘‘Oh, pooh I’ ^ said Nelly in a tone of disgust, 
“I donT see any romance in that story. She 
is horrid and he is weak. They’re not a bit in- 
teresting.” 

“Oh, but wait till I tell you the rest!” ex- 
claimed Jennie, waving her hair brush for 
silence. “John says the curious thing about the 
affair is that they are as much in love with 
each other as ever, and are pining away because 
they are separated. He has a nice horse and 
drives out here nights, hiding his horse 
among the trees, just to look at the house where 
she lives, and perhaps get a glimpse of her. 
John has caught him several times peeping 
through the bushes and gazing up at her win- 
dow. She does not know he is there, but sits 
where he can see her, and looks forlornly down 
the road as though she was expecting somebody. 
You know how often we have seen her there. 
She’s always the picture of misery.” 


THE DAY AFTER THE SHOW 217 

‘‘Just like Romeo and Juliet!’’ exclaimed 
Flora. 

“Perhaps her unhappiness is what has made 
her so cross to us,” commented Lizzie. 

“I would think their friends would let her 
know how he comes to look at her, and hy this 
time would have reconciled them,” remarked 
Ada. 

“Mrs. Johnson doesn’t want her to go back 
to her husband till the hop picking is over, and 
Alfred’s friends think he is better off without 
his tempery wife. He thinks they will never 
come together unless somebody helps them, for 
the husband is far too timid and meek for the 
first step. He thinks he must take her at her 
word, and be banished until she sends for him, 
and she is too proud to call him to her after 
leaving him as she did, and so they continue to 
be miserable apart.” 

“Why, it’s just like a novel being lived before 
us,” cried Nina. 

“And why can’t we do something to bring 
them together and make the story end right. 


218 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘And they lived happily ever after/ ’’ exclaimed 
Tilly. 

“What would you do!’^ asked Rhoda who, as 
usual, had listened silently to the discussion. 

“WTiy, go and tell ’em how silly they are and 
drag ’em together,” cried Tilly, emphatically. 

The girls laughed at this plan for reconcilia- 
tion and Jennie said: “I’m afraid you’d make 
matters worse than ever, Tilly, but I like your 
idea, and I believe Flora would think of some 
way we could make the story end happily.” 
They all turned to Flora who sat on her bed 
by J ennie ’s side. Her cheeks were pinker than 
usual and her eyes were shining as she said 
with an eager smile: “I’ve thought of some- 
thing already that we might do.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


the anonymous letter 

O UT with it, Flo! Don’t be stingy with 
yonr little ideas,” said Tilly. 

‘^Not to-night,” said Flora, rising and begin- 
ning to undress. ‘‘I’ll have to think it out a 
little more, and I can always think best in bed. ’ ’ 
The girls objected to waiting, and begged her 
to give them an inkling at least, of what she had 
in mind. But Rhoda sided with her, and as it 
was late, and they were tired and sleepy, they 
gave up teasing, the lights were soon out, and 
everybody soundly sleeping. 

It was not till bedtime of the next day that 
Flora had opportunity to tell her plans. They 
were all in their rooms, the little girls asleep, 
when the older ones gathered round Flora to 
hear her “scheme.” 

She plunged into it at once. “We must de- 

219 


220 THE HOP PICKERS 

ceive them both, ^ ’ she began, ‘ ‘ there is no other 
way to do it, but to write to Mr. Judkins an 
anonymous letter.’’ 

‘‘Oh, Rhoda doesn’t approve of anonymous 
letters,” said Jennie at once. “She won’t let 
us do that.” 

“You forget that I have no right to dictate 
to Flora,” said Rhoda, smiling. “But I don’t 
think she believes anonymous letters are hon- 
orable any more than we do. She must have 
a good reason for this one, and I’d like to hear 
what it is.” 

“Yes, tell us quick, Flo. You’ve got it all 
written out, haven’t you,” said the irrepressible 
THly. 

The young girl drew a bit of paper from her 
pocket, saying, “I don’t know any other way 
to manage it, Rhoda. And I don’t believe this 
can do any harm.” 

“Let’s hear it,” called several voices, and 
Flora began reading: 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


221 


‘‘Mr. Alfred Judkins. 

^‘Sir: Your wife is very unhappy because sbe is 
away from you. Sbe would like to have you come to 
see ber. Please write and ask ber to ride with you to- 
morrow evening. Tell ber to be ready at tbe gate at 
eight o^clock. If she is there you will know that what 
I have written is true. Do not tell ber of this letter. 
It would make ber angry. 

“From a Friend. ’’ 


“Wliat possible barm could come from that 
letter, even if it is anonymous U’ asked Jen- 
nie. 

“None whatever, I’m sure,” said Rhoda 
heartily. “As Flora says, it seems to be the 
only thing you can do, if you are going to try 
to bring them together. It’s a very clever let- 
ter. I don’t think it could be improved. There 
is neither too much or too little in it. If the 
Princess really wants to go back to her hus- 
band she will be glad of this opportunity, and 
if she doesn’t, why, things will be just as they 
are now.” 

Flora looked very much pleased and relieved. 
She valued praise from Rhoda very much, and 


222 THE HOP PICKERS 

Jennie exclaimed, There! Didn’t I tell you 

Flora could do it?” 

^‘But how will you manage to get the letter 
to the office and have an answer from the prin- 
cess this evening?” asked the practical Tilly. 

‘‘John is going to the village this evening 
and will take the letter,” and Jennie. “Mr. 
Judkins will probably answer at once, so that 
his wife will have the reply in the afternoon 
mail. You know it gets here at three o’clock.” 

“You don’t mean that you’ve been talking to 
John about our plan!” cried Jennie. “You 
know he doesn’t approve of bringing them to- 
gether. He’ll spoil everything!” 

“No, he won’t! I talked him over to our 
side, ’ ’ said Flora quickly. “ He ’s going to help 
us.” 

“Of course! I could have told you Flora 
would do that,” said Nelly, laughing. 

“Well, it’s all right if he really will help us,” 
said J ennie. 

“He’s waiting for it now, isn’t he?” asked 
the astute Tilly slyly. 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


223 


‘‘Yes/’ answered Flora, rising. “If you all 
agree to send it I’ll take it out to him. 

“Of course we do,” said Myra. “It’s going 
to be awfully romantic. I don’t believe I can 
wait till to-morrow evening. ’ ’ 

“We must be careful not to show that we 
know what is going on,” cautioned Jennie, 
when Flora had gone with the letter. 

“Don’t tell the little girls,” added Tilly. 
“They’d be sure to ‘let the cat out of the bag.’ ” 
The next morning John told the girls he had 
seen Alf Judkins reading his letter soon after it 
had been put in the post-office. 

‘ ‘ Oh, do tell us how he lookei^, ’ ’ cried Nina. 
“Like a kitten that had licked the cream pot,” 
said John, grinning. ‘^Poor fool! He don’t 
know when he ’s well off. ’ ’ 

“Now, John, don’t you spoil our fun,” 
warned Jennie. “Mrs. Judkins must never 
know what we’ve done. You won’t tell, will 
youl” 

“Don’t you worry! I’m mum. I’m just as 
ashamed of it as you are, ’ ’ said J ohn, shoulder- 


224 ! 


THE HOP PICKERS 


ing an immense sack of hops, and then adding: 

donT suppose it will do ^em any harm to try 
it again. Perhaps Mirandy has learned a little 
sense.’’ 

Flora and Jennie went to the house about 
three o’clock to get the mail for their party, 
as it was usually brought in at this time. In 
a few minutes they came running back with a 
bunch of letters which they soon distributed 
among the waiting girls around Rhoda’s box. 

‘‘Did the princess get her letter?” asked 
Tilly in an excited voice. 

“Yes,” replied Jennie in the same tone. 

“Don’t talk so loud. The little girls will hear 
you,” cautioned Flora. “You know how sus- 
picious they are about our ‘secrets.’ ” 

“Yes! yes! but go on,” said Myra ungently. 

“Well,” continued Jennie in a lower tone, 
“when we got there the princess was looking 
tired and cross as usual, and as though she 
didn’t take any interest in anything. Then 
Mrs. Johnson called out, ‘Here’s a letter for 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 225 
you, Mirandy.’ The princess took it and her 
face got as red as could be when she looked at 
it. Then she put it in her pocket and left the 
room as fast as she could go.’’ 

‘‘Of course it’s from him!” cried Tilly. 
“And the next chapter will be the elopement!” 

‘ ‘ How absurd ! ’ ’ said Minnie. ‘ ‘ A man can ’t 
elope with his wife ! ’ ’ 

“Yes, he can, in this case,” said Flora. 
“John says Alf is so afraid of Mrs. Johnson 
he dares not come near the place, and if he meets 
Miranda they will have to run away together.” 

“But you know they are only going to take 
drives in the evenings,” said Myra. 

“Perhaps they won’t come back,” suggested 
Ada. 

“She wouldn’t be so dishonorable as that, 
I’m sure,” said Jennie confidently. “How 
could Mrs. J ohnson get along without her ? You 
know it’s almost impossible to get help for 
housework up here during the hop picking and 
Miranda promised to stay all the season.” 


226 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘Husli!’^ warned Flora. ^^The little girls 
are coming!’’ 

Five or six of them, led by Kitty and J essie, 
now reached the larger group, and Kittie said 
in an aggrieved tone, ‘‘We think it’s mean for 
you girls to have secrets from us.” 

“What makes you think we have any?” asked 
J ennie, trying to look innocent. 

“Oh, you know you have!” replied the little 
girl, shaking her finger accusingly at her sister. 
“You’ve been whispering together for a long 
time, and we don’t think it’s fair.” 

“Well then, why don’t you have secrets of 
your own,” said Jennie. 

“We have got one!” cried the little girl who 
had a sharp nose and bright eyes. 

Kitty turned to the child inquiringly when 
she whispered: “Don’t you remember about 
Huldy and the letter?” 

Jennie had very quick hearing. Her father 
said she should be a woodsman, she had such 
“sharp ears,” so, though the others did not 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


227 


hear the whisper, Jennie caught the words, 
‘‘Huldy^’ and ‘‘letter,’’ and instantly her sus- 
picion was roused that something was going on 
concerning their plot which they ought to know. 
The little girls scampered oft to their places, 
giggling and jeering and shouting taunting 
words to the big girls. “We don’t want any 
of your old secrets! We’ve got one of our 
own!” 

“I must find out what it is,” said Jennie. 
“I believe it’s about our letter.” 

“You’ll have to be very diplomatic, or you 
won’t get it out of them,” said Flora. 

“Yes, I know. But I guess I can manage 
Kitty some way. She never can keep a secret 
very long.” 

The opportunity came very soon. Kitty ran 
to her sister, crying from the pain caused by a 
sliver of wood in her little pink finger. J ennie 
put her arm round the child and led her to the 
house where they could get a sharp needle to 
extract the sliver. In a few minutes the sur- 


228 


THE HOP PICKERS 


gical operation was performed, the pain was 
gone, and the two sisters sat on the edge of the 
bed chatting. 

‘‘Do you like it here, dear?’’ asked Jennie, 
trying to lead naturally to the subject she 
wanted to discuss. 

“Yes, of course. It’s splendid. I’m so sorry 
we have to go home next week. I’m afraid 
we’ll never see John again.” 

The little girl spoke mournfully, and Jennie 
hastened to say, “Oh, yes, I’m sure we’ll come 
back next year, and I think John will be here 
too. But I expect Mrs. Johnson and the prin- 
cess and Huldy will be glad to have us go, they 
have to work so hard. I’m glad Huldy had a 
letter. She seems to have so few pleasures.” 

“That wasn’t her letter,” said Kitty quickly. 
“She was just carrying one to the village for 
the princess.” And then realizing that she 
had given away the precious secret she cried 
angrily, “There now! You’ve made me teU. 
The girls will be awful mad at me 1 ” 

“Oh, that’s not much of a secret,” said Jen- 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


229 


nie, laughing. “Just carrying a letter to the 
office to mail.’’ 

“She wasn’t going to mail it,” declared 
Kitty. ‘ ‘ She was just going to give it to some 
one in the village.” 

“How did you find all this out?” asked 
Jennie. 

“Why, I was walking to the house with some 
of the girls for a drink, and we met Huldy on 
her way to the village. She said Miranda was 
going to do her work and give her a penny 
besides, for taking the letter.” 

“Did you see the name on the envelope?” 

“Yes, she showed it to us. But I’m not go- 
ing to tell you that. I’ve got to keep part of 
the secret, anyway,” said the little girl, wag- 
ging her head sagely. 

Jennie rose and going to her satchel she 
opened it and took out a pasteboard box 
and showed Kitty a small camelian ornament 
shaped like a heart, which was lying inside on 
a bit of cotton. “Do you want that, dear?” she 
asked. 


230 THE HOP PICKERS 

'‘Oh, sister!’’ cried the child eagerly. "You 
wouldn’t really give me that, would you!” 

"I will if you’ll give me the first name on the 
letter. You needn’t say the last one, you know, 
and then you can tell the girls you haven’t told 
all the secret.” 

"Oh, yes,” cried Kitty, delighted to have 
found a way to be loyal to her comrades, and 
earn a bribe at the same time. "The first name 
was Alfred. But you mustn’t ask for the last 
one, for I really must keep part of the secret, 
you know.” 

"No, I won’t ask you any more,” said Jennie, 
handing over the coveted trinket. "Now we 
must go back to our work. ’ ’ 

There was a good deal of speculation among 
the large girls when J ennie told them what she 
had learned. This was an unexpected turn of 
events. What did the princess mean by send- 
ing a letter so promptly to her husband! There 
were various guesses. 

"Perhaps she was angry with him for pre- 
suming to write to her. Or she might be plan- 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 231 
ning to leave Mrs. Johnson, as Tilly had sug- 
gested. 

^^But we never dreamed of such a thing, de- 
clared Jennie. ‘‘We thought she would just he 
friends with her husband and ride with him 
evenings and then go hack home when the sea- 
son was over.’’ 

“I don’t see how she could have the con- 
science to leave her aunt,” said Myra. “John 
says Mrs. J ohnson was awful good to her. Her 
own folks wouldn’t have her when she left her 
husband. She was sick, and Mrs. Johnson took 
her in and nursed her. The least she can do in 
return is to stay till the season is over as she 
promised. It lasts only a week longer.” 

“Well, we’ll see,” said Rhoda comfortably. 
“You had the best intentions in the world when 
you played ‘Providence,’ and perhaps things 
will turn out as you wish, after all.” 


CHAPTER XX 


THE ELOPEMENT 

I N the evening, about dark, Jennie started 
with eight or ten girls to walk to the village 
with the intention of doing some shopping and 
returning as soon as possible. The little girls, 
by special permission, had gone with John to 
the drying house to see the operation of baling 
hops, and Rhoda, May and Ann went out for a 
stroll in the soft September twilight. They 
had entered the woods back of the house, hop- 
ing to hear the song of the whippoorwill, which 
often serenaded them, and were seated silently 
on a log listening, when May whispered: 

‘‘Hark! What bird is that! I never heard 
that note before!’’ 

“It must be peculiar to this region,” said 
Rhoda. “How strange it is! We must ask 
John about it.” 


232 


THE ELOPEMENT 


233 


Just then they heard a window open cau- 
tiously above the porch. They were in the 
shadow of the woods and could not he seen, 
although they could see the house perfectly. 
Presently a woman appeared at the open win- 
dow, apparently to listen, for she stood until 
the bird note was repeated. 

‘‘That’s the princess,” whispered May, “and 
her husband is signaling for her. She’ll be go- 
ing out to meet him now in a moment. His 
horse and carriage are probably out of sight 
somewhere. ’ ’ 

“How surprised Jennie will be, she was so 
sure he would not come till to-morrow night,” 
said Ann. 

“Yes, the princess evidently couldn’t wait, 
and sent him a letter by Huldy telling him to 
come to-night, ’ ’ said Ehoda. 

‘ ‘ Shan ’t we go ? ” suggested May. ‘ ‘ It seems 
almost like spying to sit here and watch them.” 

“It might embarrass them if they knew we 
were here. Perhaps we’d better stay till they 
go, ’ ’ whispered Ehoda. 


234 THE HOP PICKERS 

While she was speaking, a man^s form be- 
gan to creep cautiously around the corner of the 
house. He carried a short ladder in his hand, 
which he planted against the porch and then 
repeated the bird note softly. The woman ap- 
peared again, this time with her hat on. There 
was a light in the room and the girls could see 
the outlines of Miranda ^s form as she carefully 
lifted a small trunk from the floor and placed 
it outside on the roof of the porch. 

‘‘She’s going to run away, just as Tilly pre- 
dicted,” said May, clasping her hands. “Isn’t 
it too bad! What will poor Jennie say! She 
feels so responsible about the affair.” 

“It’s too late to do anything, and I doubt if 
anything could he done now. We’ll have to 
take the consequences of meddling in other peo- 
ples’ affairs,” said Rhoda. 

Miranda blew out the light and followed the 
trunk carefully, closing the window behind her. 
They could see her form dimly after this as 
she handed the trunk, and then a satchel, to the' 
man who was now halfway up the ladder. In 



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THE ELOPEMENT 235 

a moment more the two forms were on the 
ground, hearing the trunk between them while 
the man carried the satchel in his left hand. 
They disappeared in the woods in a moment 
more, and May exclaimed: There! we’ve seen 
the elopement! I don’t see why she couldn’t 
have gone from the front door. It seems ab- 
surd for her to sneak off that way with her 
own husband. ’ ’ 

^^She probably was ashamed to face Mrs. 
Johnson,” said Rhoda, ‘^or perhaps the hus- 
band was afraid of her.” 

^‘It’s likely she wanted to do something ro- 
mantic,” added Ann. 

They were in their room now and just then 
the little girls came in, and nothing more was 
said at the time. Jennie and her companions 
returned a half hour later, rather subdued and 
silent, and found the smaller girls asleep, and 
Rhoda, May and Ann in bed. 

‘‘What a shame!” cried Jennie when she 
found what had happened. “Don’t you think 
we ought to go and tell Mrs. Johnson, sister?” 


236 


THE HOP PICKERS 


‘‘No/’ said Rhoda, “it would do no good to 
disturb ber to-night. We’d better wait to see 
what happens in the morning. She may be 
here then, after all.” 

“No,” said Tilly confidently. “She’s gone 
for good, or why did she take her things?” 

“I call it disgusting!” cried Nora, pulling 
at a knot in her shoe lace. “There’s no use 
in trying to help anybody; you always get into 
trouble by it.” 

“Well! It’s a good joke on us,” said Tilly, 
laughing. 

“I wonder what Mrs. Johnson will say in the 
morning,” remarked Nora. 

“Won’t she be mad! And who will wait on 
the tables ? ’ ’ added Fanny. ‘ ‘ She ’ll have to get 
somebody else,” said Flora. 

“But that’s not so easy! They say it’s al- 
most impossible to get any one to do house- 
work here. Every one wants to pick hops and 
nobody will wash dishes,” said Minnie. 

“It’s not very honorable for the princess to 
go off and leave her aunt when she promised to 


THE ELOPEMENT 23T 

stay through the season,” remarked Lizzie. 

John says her own folks wouldnT have her 
when she left her husband,” said Nina. ‘‘She 
was sick, too, and Mrs. Johnson took her in 
and nursed her and was kind to her till she got 
well.” 

“How ungrateful!” cried Lizzie. “The 
least she could do in return for such kindness 
would he to stay to help as she promised, and 
then go home to her husband afterward.” 

“But I say we’re to blame too,” broke in 
Jennie. “She never would have thought of 
going off that way if we hadn’t put her up to 
it.” 

“Well then,” said Tilly promptly, “we must 
make it up to Mrs. Johnson by doing the prin- 
cess’ work. We can at least wash the dishes 
and set the tables and sweep the floors.” 

The girls laughed, and some of them said they 
had no time for such work, hut Rhoda’s gentle 
voice called out, “ Go to sleep now, dears. We ’ll 
see to-morrow what we can do. ’ ’ 

They felt rather guilty and apprehensive in 


238 


THE HOP PICKERS 


the morning when they entered the dining room 
for breakfast. The prospect was rather un- 
promising. The tables were not laid and there 
was no princess to pass coffee or griddle cakes. 
While they stood in a group undecided what to 
do, the ‘‘Low Downs’’ came in and looked 
* around in wonder. In a moment the kitchen 
door opened and Mrs. Johnson came in with 
a red and angry face. She carried two large 
coffee pots to a side table and set them down 
on it, remarking briefly as she went back to the 
kitchen, “You’ll have to wait on yourselves 
this morning. Mirandy’s cleared out.” There 
were piles of plates and knives and forks 
on the side table, and the girls began at once 
to place them on the long dining tables, two 
or three of the Mud Creek girls stepping for- 
ward timidly to help. Rhoda and Ann poured 
coffee, which the little girls distributed. Perry 
and Simmons brought fresh water from the 
pump in large tin pails, while John cut up some 
huge loaves of bread which Mr. Johnson brought 
to him in a basket. 


THE ELOPEMENT 


239 


They were all very jolly about it, and there 
was a good deal of chatter and laughing as they 
ran to and fro, and Kitty said : 

‘^Why, this is fun. Just like a picnic.’’ 

^‘I’m glad the princess is gone. She was al- 
ways so cross,” said Hattie. 

‘‘You’d better not say that to Mrs. Johnson,” 
cautioned Nora. 

“No, of course not. But don’t she look 
mad!” said the little girl in a whisper. Mrs. 
Johnson had prepared great platters of fried 
ham and bacon with eggs which were now placed 
on the tables by the box-tenders. Mr. Johnson 
brought in some huge dishes full of baked 
potatoes just from the oven, and the meal was 
ready. John went to the kitchen to help Mrs. 
Johnson bake the griddle cakes and presently 
began to pass them around, his broad face shin- 
ing with good nature and perspiration. 

As soon as the small girls had finished their 
breakfasts they made him sit down to eat while 
they waited on him, while Rhoda, Ann and Myra 
began to pick up the soiled dishes. Jennie 


240 


THE HOP PICKERS 


found two big dishpans hanging on nails by the 
kitchen door which she brought into the dining 
room. Simmons carried pails of hot water to 
them from the kitchen, and Huldy ran out to 
the back yard to get some wiping towels which 
were hanging on the line there. 

‘‘Many hands make light work.’^ It was not 
long before the dishes were clean and placed 
on the tables and the girls were ready for the 
hop yard. 

Before they left Mrs. Johnson came into the 
dining room with a good deal of the grimness 
gone from her face as she said to Rhoda: “Well, 
I’m much obliged to you for helpin’ me 
out. I didn’t know how I was goin’ to git 
along. ’ ’ 

“Where’s Mirandy, Mis’ Johnson?” asked 
Simmons. “Has she took sick?” 

“No. She’s took with foolishness. She’s 
run otf with Alf Judkins. Just wait till I see 
her ! I’ll give her a piece of my mind. I’ll tell 
what I think of her to treat me like this after 
all I’ve done for her.” 


241 


THE ELOPEMENT 

‘'What makes you think she’s gone off with 
Alf asked Perry. 

“Johnson saw him hangin’ round the woods 
last night and when I went to her room to call 
her this mornin’ I found she’d taken all her 
things. ’ ’ 

“That’s too bad,” said the box-tender sym- 
pathizingly. 

“It’s just like her,” went on Mrs. Johnson 
in a hard tone. “She never did have no con- 
science nor heart.” 

“Can’t ye git somebody to take her place?” 
queried Perry. 

Mrs. Johnson shrugged her shoulders. “I 
guess you know as well as I, ye can’t git help 
for love or money now,” she said as she walked 
back to the kitchen. 

The girls went to their work in rather a sober 
mood. Their scheme to restore the sad prin- 
cess to home and happiness did not look so fair 
and praiseworthy as it had at first. It began 
to seem to some of them that they had meddled 
in affairs that did not concern them and had 


242 THE HOP PICKERS 

brought about more trouble than good. But 
the mischief was done. Rhoda thought nothing 
would be gained for any one by telling 
Mrs. Johnson the part they had played in the 
little drama, and that they could best repair 
the harm they had done by helping their hostess 
with her work as much as possible, and Jennie 
and all the rest concluded to abide by this de- 
cision. 

The day after the princess left the girls 
washed the dishes, set the tables and divided 
•their party into relays to act as waitresses 
when the meals were served. Many of the Mud 
Creek girls were always anxious to help and the 
little girls begged for the privilege of waiting 
on the tables. There was more fun than pen- 
ance in these tasks, although it gave them no 
time for rest, and they went to bed more tired 
than usual that night. 

‘‘My copy book says ‘virtue is its own re- 
ward,^ said Tilly, “but it seems to be its own 
punishment in this case.’’ 

“Well, it won’t last long,” said Rhoda. 


THE ELOPEMENT 


243 


‘‘We shall be going home in a week and Mrs. 
Johnson’s troubles will be over.” 

‘ ‘ Only a week ! ’ ’ echoed several voices. 

“I never knew time to slip away so fast,” re- 
marked Myra. ‘ ‘ I wish we could stay longer ! ’ ’ 

“Yes, haven’t we had a good time,” cried 
Tilly heartily. 

“I’ve got some news!” said Jennie, coming 
up to the box where the girls had been talking. 
“John says Mr. Johnson has gone to get a 
woman they have heard of to help Mrs. John- 
son.” ' 

‘ ‘ I wonder if she will be there to wait on the 
table for dinner to-day,” said Tilly. 

“I hope so,” said Fanny. “It’s awful hard 
to wait while you are hungry and see other 
people eat, and the little girls do slop things 
so dreadfully.” 

They were all as hungry as usual at noon and 
some of them expected to be much hungrier be- 
fore they could eat. But a great surprise 
awaited them when they went into the dining 
room for dinner. They found the tall princess 


244 ^ 


THE HOP PICKERS 


there, calmly placing the hot potatoes and the 
roast meat on the tables. She smiled when the 
girls spoke to her, but otherwise acted as though 
nothing had happened. They dared not say 
anything to her about her return, but they felt 
sure J ohn could tell them all about it, and went 
in search of him as soon as they left the table. 
He laughed when they began to question him. 

You’d better ask Mr. Johnson how he did 
it,” he said; “I don’t know. I reckon he let on 
to the missus that he knew of some other 
woman, but he meant all the time to coax Mi- 
randy to come back. He’s the only one that can 
do anything with her. She thinks a heap of 
him.” 

wish I could have been there when she 
came back. There must have been an awful 
row,” said Fanny. 

‘‘No, there wasn’t no row,” said John. “I 
was just carryin’ some meat from the icehouse 
to the kitchen when Mirandy came.” 

“Oh, I knew you could tell us all about it,” 
cried Tilly. “ Go on ! Go on 1” 


THE ELOPEMENT 


245 


John grinned and went on. ‘‘The missus she 
swelled up and got red in the face, and I thought 
she was a-goin^ to pitch into Mirandy, but she 
didn’t. She just looked like she hadn’t got no 
words to tell her what she thought of her, and 
Mirandy never said nothin’ either. She just 
looked kinder ashamed, and then poor old 
Johnson put in with his little dribblin’ voice: 

‘ ‘ ‘ Ma, ’ says he, ‘ I told Mirandy if she ’d come 
and help us out till we git through I’d go to 
the village to git her in the mornin’s and Alf 
says he ’ll come after her nights. ’ And then he 
lit out and so did I. I don’t know what the two 
wimmen said or did when they was left alone, 
but I reckon it’s all right. She’s gone to work 
anyway.” 

“Hooray!” shouted Jennie, waving her sun- 
bonnet by the string. “ ‘All’s well that ends 
well.’ We’ve made the story end happily any- 
way. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXI 


BREAKING UP 

T he hop picking season was over. The 
two big wagons which had brought the 
Minnichute and Atwood girls from the railroad 
station were again at the door of the Johnsons’, 
waiting to take them away. They were no 
longer dressed as hop pickers. Most of them 
had given their soiled aprons, gloves and sun- 
bonnets to Huldy’s mother, who said she would 
be glad to make them over for her large 
family. 

So the girls looked only like neatly dressed 
travelers, as they took their seats at the break- 
fast table to eat by lamplight, as usual, and be 
waited on by the princess. “I can’t realize that 
we’re actually going home,” said Jennie. ‘‘I 
feel as though I’d been a hop picker all my 
life.” 


246 


BREAKING UP 


247 


‘^Should you like to pick hops always U’ 
asked Jessie. 

‘‘WeVe all enjoyed it. But I suppose we’d 
get tired of too much of anything,” replied 
Jennie judicially. 

<< There’s a lot o’ folks round here that would 
he glad to have you come hack next year,” re- 
marked the princess, who had overheard the 
conversation. 

^‘That’s nice,” said Rhoda. ‘‘We’d like to 
come again, I’m sure.” 

“Our box-tenders and the Mud Creekites 
wanted you to give another show,” said Mi- 
randa, balancing a tray of coffee cups on one 
hand. “But they hadn’t sand enough to ask 
you to do it.” 

“Did they really like it?” cried Tilly eagerly. 
“No one except John said anything about it, 
and we thought perhaps it was a failure.” 

“Country folks is tongue-tied. You’d ought 
to know that by this time,” said Miranda. 
“The hop pickers round here haven’t talked of 
nothin’ else since the show.” 


248 THE HOP PICKERS 

‘‘There! You see it did pay after all, Flo,’' 
said Jennie. 

“What did they like best, Mrs. Judkins T’ 
asked Kitty. 

Miranda was busy passing hot griddle-cakes, 
but she stopped with her hand on her hip to 
answer, “They liked the hull of it, but some 
thought one thing was best and some another. 
But they all talked the most about the last thing 
you did — marching down in the hop yard.’’ 

‘ ‘ Did they all see that ? ’ ’ asked Lizzie. 

“I should say they did! Every last one of 
’em. Little Matey Mallony stood up here by 
the house with me, but she could see your white 
sheets and the lights on your heads moving 
among the vines. You were so far away you 
looked like little people, and we could just hear 
your singing faintly. It sounded most like 
bees, or something humming. I thought Matey 
would have a fit. She got so excited she laughed 
and cried all together. She said she knew you 
had turned into fairies like the ones her grand- 
mother used to see in Ireland.” 


BREAKING UP 


249 


‘^Dear little Matey!” said Rhoda, smiling. 
‘‘What an imagination she must have. I hope 
we shall see her, and the other girls to say 
good-by to them. ’ ^ 

“I’m afraid you can’t,” said Miranda, her 
hand on the door. “I saw ’em a few minutes 
ago goin’ down the road. Perhaps they went 
to the village to do a little tradin’ before they 
go home this afternoon.” 

“AVhere’s John?” asked Jessie anxiously, a 
little later, when they were about to start. “We 
can’t go till we’ve said good-by to him.” 

“Oh, ye can’t get shet o’ me,” said John, 
coming up to the wagon with a whip in his 
hand and his coat over his arm. “I’m goin’ 
along to keep ye out o’ mischief. See that 
whip?” 

The little girls crowded around him with de- 
lighted cries when they found he was to he 
their driver, and Jennie, in the other wagon, 
remarked to Flora: “What a nice fellow John 
is ! It’s a pity he’s had no education, isn’t it?” 

“He’s had no chance,” said Flora. “He’s 


250 


THE HOP PICKERS 


worked winters in a lumber camp, and summers 
on farms, since he was a little boy. But he’s 
going to Chicago next winter to work at some- 
thing, and intends to attend night school.” 

‘‘Shall we see him there if we are in the 
city?” asked Jennie. 

“Perhaps,” said Flora, smiling. 

Mrs. Johnson came out of the house then with 
a large, well-filled basket in her hand. She 
handed it to her husband, saying: “Here’s a 
lunch for the girls. I guess they’ll be hungry 
enough to eat it before you get to Haddock. 
Be sure and give ’em a good dinner at the sta- 
tion.” 

He nodded assent, and meekly gazed at his 
horses’ ears while the crowd of noisy girls 
finally adjusted themselves in the long seats 
and told him they were ready. 

Their hostess shook hands all round, walking 
up each side of the long wagons. The girls 
leaned toward her, all talking together as they 
thanked her for her kindness to them, and she 


BREAKING UP 


251 


answered cordially, telling them she expected 
them all to come back to them next year. 

Huldy stood by the door to see them off, her 
little, red arms wrapped in a bit of hop sack- 
ing which served for an apron, and Miranda 
waved her handkerchief from an upper win- 
dow. Jennie said afterwards she was sure her 
eyelids were red. 

‘^Hurrah for 0. Johnson! Three cheers 
for his wife!’’ sang the merry party as they 
drove away at last. 

The daylight had come on now, so that they 
could see about them very well, and they sa- 
luted with cheers the various familiar objects 
as they passed them. The hop house, the kilns, 
the barns, and the dismantled hop yard. They 
had been there but five weeks, but the time had 
been so crowded with novel experiences it 
seemed much longer, and they were leaving the 
place with genuine regret. They had all gained 
wonderfully in health and strength. Even Ada 
Fay seemed like another person and was be- 


252 THE HOP PICKERS 

ginning to take part in the life around her with 

real zest. 

They left the farm by way of a long lane 
with a rail fence at each side, at the end of 
which there was a gate through which they must 
pass. When the wagons stopped for this to be 
opened, a group of people who had been hiding 
in the fence corners seemed to spring suddenly 
from the ground and surround the travelers. 

‘‘Why, it’s the Mud Creek girls!” cried 
Myra, when the first surprise was over. 

“And there’s little Matey!” exclaimed 
Rhoda, catching a glimpse of the child in the 
crowd. 

It was plain to be seen that they were there 
for a farewell greeting, though they were all 
too bashful to speak. But they giggled, and 
reached up to shake cordially the outstretched 
hands of the girls in the wagons. 

“Here, Matey, where be ye?” called Nance 
Carter. 

The child came forward with a heaping bas- 
ket of grapes. The larger girls helped her 


BREAKING UP 


253 


mount the forward wagon, where she quickly- 
placed the basket in Rhoda’s lap and slipped 
like a drop of quicksilver through the arms of 
the girls who tried to detain her, and before 
any one could say a word, had vanished behind 
a group of her friends. 

John had opened the gate by this time, and 
was ready to drive away. 

But another surprise was waiting for them. 
Several of the Powell pickers were also hiding 
in fence corners on the other side of the gate, 
and came forward laughing bashfully as John 
led the horses through the open gateway. 
Molly Calligan led the party as she stepped up 
to the side of the wagon and handed Rhoda 
and Jennie each a small package, saying in a 
low voice: ‘‘Me mother sent these to ye’s to 
show we hain’t forgot what ye done fur me 
sister.’’ 

The girls opened the parcels, and found two 
beautiful collars of old Irish lace. 

‘ ‘ Oh, how lovely I ’ ’ cried J ennie. ‘ ‘ But really 
they must be very valuable,” she continued. 


254 


THE HOP PICKERS 


as she examined the thin, delicate fabric, which 
seemed almost as frail as a spider’s web. 
‘^They look like heirlooms.” 

‘^Me great-grandmother made ’em in Ire- 
land,” said Molly. ‘‘They came to me mother 
when me grandmother died.” 

“Oh, you mustn’t give them away!” ex- 
claimed Jennie, looking very much distressed. 
“We couldn’t think of taking such precious 
things away from your family.” 

Molly’s face fell, and she said: “I’m sorry, 
miss. And me mother will feel awful bad if ye 
won’t take ’em. She said there wasn’t nothin’ 
too good fur ye, and she’d be happy all her 
days for thinkin’ she’d giv ye the best she had 
fur — ” 

‘ ‘ Of course we ’ll take them ! ’ ’ broke in Rhoda. 
“It is very kind and generous of your mother 
to give us such beautiful things to remember 
you by. Please thank her for us.” 

Molly’s face beamed joyfully. The girls of 
both parties shook hands again with most 
friendly good-bys, when Tilly called out, “Let’s 


BREAKING UP 


255 


all sing the Hop Picker’s Song.” May started 
the tune, the Powell and Mud Creek girls joined 
the chorus with loud voices more or less musical, 
and the travelers left them standing there, the 
faint notes of ‘‘Vive la Compagnie” still in the 
air, after the two groups were lost to each 
other’s sight. 


THE END 














































































